Me, Myself and Mandalorians
by Lex The Bear
Summary: The on-going story of Jay, a young man taken in by a Mandalorian during the time of the Clone Wars - contains all original characters.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

"So, you're after fame and glory, eh?"

The old man with the long grey hair leered at the young man across the table from him, a half-finished mug of lum gripped in his meaty hands. His eyes were soft and bleary from the effects of the alcohol, and he swayed slightly in his seat, making the young man across from him shift in his seat uncomfortably.

"Yes, yes, I'm hoping to catch on with a mercenary outfit or perhaps a bounty hunter, perhaps see if they can teach me a few things. Got to learn how to handle myself!"

The old man chuckled to himself, and the youth smiled nervously. He was very obviously out of his element, his new clothes, boyish looks and nervous body language marked him apart, and a few of the other patrons were eyeing him, some hungrily, others interestedly, others still with a practiced eye. He'd come here hoping to do exactly what he'd said, but now he was here, it looked like the advice his father had given him weeks before had been correct, and that he was just wasting his time on another immature little adventure. This time, however, his naivety looked like it might get him mugged, or worse, killed.

He took another delicate sip from the mug of lum in front of him and forced back a grimace of disgust. It was vile stuff, but everyone else in the bar seemed to be drinking it, or some variant of it, and he'd gotten it to try and blend it. It hadn't worked particularly well, especially when the laughing barman had demanded some proof of his age before he'd served him. The old man leaned in towards him conspiratorially, beckoning him in closer.

"Hey, kid, d'you want to meet a Mandalorian?"

He gawped at the man. Everyone knew of the reputation of the warrior race, of the old histories, how they tried to conquer the galaxy several times, coming close each time before being turned back by the Republic and the Jedi, and about how dangerous they were. Having the opportunity to meet one of them was something that he'd never dreamed he'd have, and now this man in front of him was offering to do just that.

"Yes please, that would be great," he replied, forcing back a grin.

"Follow me, then."

The man heaved himself up to his feet and, gesturing to the youth to follow, limped his way across the cantina, weaving around tables and patrons, dodging past servers and sliding past drunken customers. He stopped before a side-booth, big enough to seat four people comfortably, but in it was sat a single man, shrouded in a black robe and hood, a small dark bundle on the seat beside him. The youth glanced back over his shoulder. He'd been a bit dubious at first, but considering in this packed cantina, this one man was sat alone in a large booth, he could believe the man must have some kind of reputation.

Somehow, the level of conversation around the booth dropped a few decibels, almost in anticipation of what would happen between the odd group. Ignoring the dip in the hubbub around them, the old man dropped heavily into the seat opposite the man and pulled the youth down into the seat beside him.

"Noa, ol' buddy, nice to see ya again," said the old man.

"Bell," nodded the figure in a low, quiet voice. A serving girl swept up and placed a small glass of something onto the table in front of Arkaan, and he slid a few coins into her hand before turning back to Bell. "What do you want?"

"Got someone here who's eager to meet a real, live Mandalorian. Noa Arkaan, meet, errr, what's your name again, kid?"

"Jayshan Ferditude," stumbled out the youth. "My friends call me Jay though."

"I'm not your friend, _adiik_. Is this some kind of a joke, Bell?"

The old man grinned.

"Just being a friendly neighbour, _vod_. Besides, I'm doing the kid a favour." He leaned in towards Arkaan. "He's after fame and glory. Wants to become a bounty hunter or something. Maybe you could give him a hand?"

The glass rose to Arkaan's face, the contents disappearing somewhere in the shadows under the hood before he returned the glass to the table, empty.

"I just spent two weeks forcing money out of families who couldn't afford to put food on the table because they borrowed money from the wrong people, before I told those wrong people that they were _osi'yaime_ and didn't deserve the pleasure of my company. Had to shoot my way out, and apparently the CSF is in an uproar over it and wants the head of whoever it was blasted their key witnesses to a high-profile corruption case. So this had better not be some _shab'la_ joke because it really isn't funny."

An awkward silence descended over the table, and was somehow echoed by the relative silence surrounding the booth, with some of the more obvious eavesdroppers quickly turning away as it became obvious what they were doing.

Jay took another sip from his lum, forced back another grimace and glanced at the bundle at Arkaan's side.

"Are you…are you really a Mandalorian?" he asked, his heart in his throat.

Arkaan sighed. His hand went to the bundle and lifted what looked like a piece of cloth, revealing a dark helmet with the infamous T-visor. Jay leaned forwards and up, straining to see, and gasped when he saw it.

"That answer your question?"

"Yeah…so what's it like?"

"_Me'ven_? What?"

"What's it like, being a Mandalorian?"

Arkaan just stared at him, making Jay feel like the man's eyes were boring deep into him, despite not being able to see them. In fact, all he could see of the man's face was his chin and the hair that covered it. Beside Jay, the old man, Bell, was stifling laughter, his nose buried in the glass of lum he'd been nursing. Finally, after a few long moments, Arkaan spoke, his voice as hard as beskar.

"Why don't you ask your friend here, if you're so eager to find out."

"What?" Jay frowned, turning to look at Bell. "You're a Mandalorian too?"

Bell burst out laughing, slapping the table and stopping all conversation as he howled with glee, the joke too good to continue any longer. Angry, Arkaan looked around, staring at all the other patrons in the cantina, daring them to meet his gaze and finding not a single one brave enough. He noticed a few others staring at the young man, however, and narrowed his eyebrows. There was potential trouble brewing, trouble he really didn't need, and it was probably time he made a hasty exit. A few of the more dangerous-looking ones had already left, and he was pretty sure a few would be waiting outside for them.

"I'm leaving," he announced quietly, grabbing his helmet and bag from beside him. Turning his back to the cantina, he quickly whipped the hood off, giving Jay a glimpse of a heavily stubbled jaw, angry set eyebrows, brown hair and strange eyes before the helmet was jammed onto his head. Arkaan turned back to the cantina, giving it a long slow look before he put his head down and made for the exit.

Dropping a few coins onto the table, Bell pushed Jay out of the booth, wiping tears out of his eyes.

"C'mon, kid, let's get out of here."

Still confused, Jay went along with it, allowing the older man to push him all the way out of the cantina, emerging into the dark night outside. Casting around, there was no sign of Arkaan, and Bell swore under his breath. Far overhead, the busy air lanes of Coruscant continued obliviously, the never-ending traffic creating a faint, almost eerie glow. Down here, in the depths, far from the lofty heights of the Jedi Temple, the Senate Building and the towers of the rich, light didn't penetrate too deep, making it a haven for those not wanting to be found. Even the Coruscant Security Force didn't venture this deep, and even when they did, it was in force and in full armour and with a specific target in mind. Gangs and crime-lords ruled down here, and if you weren't carrying some sign of your affiliation with any group, you were considered prey. Even the armour of a Mandalorian only bought you so much protection.

It was surprising to Bell that the kid had managed to make his way down here without getting himself mugged and killed already, and it would be a struggle to get him out again in the same way.

Bell paused.

Why was he helping the kid get out? He didn't owe him anything, he had no real connection to him, nothing to tie him to Jay or even to want to help him, so why did he find himself pulling him out of a cantina in pursuit of a man he'd introduced to the kid as a joke?

Movement out of the corner of his eye made all of his thoughts a moot point, and he pushed Jay behind him slightly as four humanoids stepped out from the shadows of an alley opposite the cantina. Their leader, a human standing in front of a Devaronian, grinned from underneath the hood he was wearing and gesturing at Bell.

"We know you, Mandalorian, we wish you no harm. Step away from the child and we will not pursue you"

"You want to talk to him, you do it through me," replied Bell through gritted teeth. This looked bad; the other two, a Rodian and a Twi'lek, both had their hands hidden behind them, no doubt concealing weapons of some sort. The human had a blaster pistol on his hip, whilst the tip of a knife glinted from beneath the cloth wraps the Devaronian wore.

"One last chance, old man, we don't want to hurt you. All we want is him."

A shadow moved behind the Rodian, and a heavy, gauntleted arm swung, catching it behind the ear and dropping it with a heavy thud. The Twi'lek turned, hissing, a vibro-knife humming into life in its hands, but before it could do anything, a bright flash lit up the alley and the Twi'lek fell back, a cratered, smoking hole in place of its face. The remaining two turned, the human going for his pistol and the Devaronian dropping into a knife-fighting stance, but both froze when the barrel of a rifle extended from the shadows, held in an unwavering one-handed grip, pressing itself against the human's forehead.

"Don't," came a quiet, electronically filtered voice as Arkaan stepped into the light.

"Is not your fight!" squeaked the red-skin, twisting slightly.

"It is now, _di'kut_. Run before I waste more ammunition on your sorry _shebse_."

"I'm warning you," began the human, his hand beginning to move towards the pistol again.

The alley lit up again, and the human bucked, his head a smoking ruin. The Devaronian squeaked again as the body crumpled, and found himself staring down the smoking double-barrels of Arkaan's rifle, the muzzles still glowing slightly.

"Start running."

He took off, his footsteps echoing along the long passageway, and Arkaan lowered the rifle.

"Thanks," started Bell, but Arkaan interrupted him.

"Don't. Let's just get out of here before we figure out what to do with your little friend."

Arkaan turned away, cracking open the double-barreled rifle, swinging the two barrels down and pulling two smoking capsules out of each barrel, one above the other, before replacing them with another pair from a pouch on his belt.

"What's that?" asked Bell, noticing the strange weapon.

"A little something I've been working on. Jay, take his pistol." Arkaan indicated the dead human.

"What?"

"Take the _shab'la_ pistol! We don't have all day! Take the holster too, and the belt if you need it. Bell, check the others."

A flick of Arkaan's wrist and the rifle snapped back together, and he slung it on his back by the strap whilst he rummaged through the Twi'lek's pockets. He found nothing useful but a few credits, which he took, leaving the rest on the body. The others yielded similar results, and two minutes later, the trio was gone, disappearing down the alley and into the shadows like nothing had happened.

***

An hour later, the three of them were sat around a fixed table on board Bell's freighter, the _Dead Ringer_. The small dock it was parked in wasn't far from the cantina, but they'd taken a roundabout route, taking double-backs and going up and down stairwells and elevation shafts. Jay had gone along with them almost numbly, not knowing what else to do. He'd been surprised to see the vessel; expecting to see a relatively small ship, the sight of the fat, almost bloated looking _Dead Ringer_ has almost thrown him completely, especially the sight of several other crew members milling around both inside and outside. In deference to the captain, the mess area had been cleared for the three, and the only signs of life on-board were a ringing sound from the engine room as one of the crew worked on maintaining the engines and a 'droid cleaning some plates in a sink in the corner.

"So why were those _di'kute_ interested in you, Jay?" asked Arkaan. He'd taken off the cloak and helmet, and had also removed his gauntlets, gloves, with the majority of his webbing and weaponry sat on another table next to them. For the first time, his face was fully visible to Jay, and he looked nothing like what he'd expected. Short, dark brown hair framed a slightly flushed, light-skinned face, with intense green eyes staring out from under a heavy brow. A few scars marred his otherwise unblemished face, including one that extended down his cheek and onto his heavily stubbled chin. He sat opposite Jay, with Bell lounging on a chair at the end of the table, rocking back and forth on two legs, one arm thrown over the back of the chair.

"I don't know," replied Jay. The pistol he'd taken was sat on the table in front of him, and he was staring at it, almost in shock.

"They could've just been tweakers, looking for some money for their next fix, Arkaan," said Bell.

"No," he replied. "They weren't shaking, their eyes were clear, they had back-up, and one of them had a blaster. Plus, all they asked for was the kid. That's too well organized for a couple of spaced out tweakers, and if they were just after cash, they would've just shot both of you. What's your name again, kid?"

"Jayshan Ferditude."

"I don't recognise the name. You piss someone off? Got a rich family? Know anyone who's wanted?"

"I don't…I don't know."

Arkaan leaned forward and spun the pistol around until the barrel faced Jay, and stabbed his finger into the trigger guard, staring into Jay's eyes.

"Lie to me, and I'll shoot you myself. Answer the _shab'la_ question."

"My, my father, he runs some shipyards, he's very rich, but he cut me off, I have no money, he hates me!"

"They don't know that," hissed Arkaan. "Those clothes, they're too rich, the way you act, it was obvious you didn't belong in that cantina. All it takes is a little research and they've got who you are. Where are you from, anyway?"

"Right here, I was born on Coruscant, same as my father, his father, and his father before him."

"Wait," leaned in Bell, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Your father _owns_ shipyards on Coruscant?"

"Yes, he does," replied Jay, confusion on his face.

Bell whistled softly. On a planet where the most precious commodity was space, even that above your head, renting and leasing was common-place, and very often the only viable option to be able to even afford to live and work there. So to be able to actually own properties meant that whoever it was must either be a part of a company, a high-end government official…or extremely rich.

"What shipyards?" asked Arkaan, catching on and glancing at Bell.

"I don't know," he replied. "I never asked, never visited them. I didn't really care, to be honest. But I think they orbit somewhere over one of the polar regions, and I think he owns the rights to the Senate building docks."

Arkaan shook his head. This was some serious money they were talking about, and the attack was making more sense.

"You need to go home, kid, and stay there," said Bell, echoing Arkaan's thoughts.

"I…can't," he muttered. "I'm completely disowned, not welcome there anymore. I can't go back, even if I wanted to." Jay looked down, staring at the pistol. What the other two men took as shame and a little nervousness from admitting it was in fact him trying to cover up the fact that he was lying.

His father knew fine well where he was, and they'd parted in amenable, if somewhat sad and disappointed, terms. He'd expected anger, threats and to be locked in, but all he'd gotten from the old man, was a sad glance over his glasses and an understanding speech. He'd given him some cash and an account filled with money and a few frequencies added to personal comm, in case he needed some help. But Jay was determined to make it on his own, determined to get out there and exist off his own steam, not off the back of his ancestors, and if that meant nearly getting himself killed, then so be it. These two Mandalorians weren't at all what he'd expected, but they could be helpful. Their suggestion that he ought to go home didn't help his plans at all, and he got the feeling he might need to work hard to stay with them.

"Well, where have you been staying?"

"Only got thrown out this morning," Jay mumbled, head down, his face turning a light shade of red.

Arkaan pursed his lips and Bell rubbed his forehead in frustration. The younger man looked across at Bell, raising one eyebrow.

"Got any openings on the _Ringer_?" asked Arkaan quietly.

"I'm sure I could find a job for him, but I couldn't pay him. You'd get food and a bed, but you'd have to work, help out around the ship. Manual labour, that sort of thing. You up for it, kid?"

"I could do that, yes. And don't worry about paying me, I'd just need somewhere to sleep and something to eat. Past that, I'll survive."

"Well, alright. We'll find you a bunk later. Any gear you need to collect from somewhere?"

"I'm wearing everything I need." Jay shrugged.

Bell activated his comm, and a few minutes later, another crew member arrived and led Jay away. Arkaan and Bell sat in silence for a few long moments, neither really sure what to say to each other. They knew each other the same way all Mandalorians knew each other; through experience and meeting each other along the mercenary and bounty-hunting circuit, but neither would count the other as a good friend.

"Why are we doing this?" said Arkaan quietly, raising an eyebrow at Bell.

"Not enough charity in the universe, I guess."

"That's a load of _osik_, and you know it."

"True," chuckled Bell. "I don't know. Maybe the kid reminds me of someone at his age. A kid in need, kinda lost…"

"You were an adoptee, huh?"

"Yep. Not all of us were born into this life, Arkaan."

"I know, _vod_. Look, I need a favour."

"Don't you think I've done enough favours for you for one day?"

"I need to get back to Manda'_yaim_."

"That's one hell of a favour. Mandalore's a long way from the Core, I can't afford to just be making that kind of trip for one passenger, especially one that won't be paying, which is why, I assume, you're asking instead of booking passage."

"Nope, I can't pay, but I'm sure a trader with your skills can find a cargo that needs taking out that far besides me."

Bell sighed and stood, putting the chair back into place and gripping the back of the chair.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do, but only because of what you did for me back on Ord Mantell. I'll go see what I can rustle up. You stick around, I'll be back in a few hours."

Bell turned to go, but Arkaan stood quickly, gently tugging his arm so he turned slightly.

"Thanks, _vod_. I appreciate this."

"Yeah, well, thank me when you're on home soil."

The captain turned and walked out, leaving Arkaan stood on his own in the mess hall, the empty chairs, benches and tables around him almost staring back at him in their solitude. He snorted at himself before walking out of the mess, gathering the bundle of armour and webbing as he went.

***

Two days later found the _Dead Ringer_ in hyperspace. It had taken Bell most of that time to rustle up a piece of business, which turned out to be a cargo of farm tools. It didn't take up too much space in the hold, but had considerable weight, which, due to the age of the _Ringer_, meant the low boxes were stacked in columns of two and spread out along one side of the hold.

"Ironic."

"What?" asked Jay.

"The one trade Mandalorians are most known for being at almost complete odds with the most popular trade on Mandalore."

Bell stood with his arms folded, one hand stroking his chin in amusement. Beside him, Jay looked at him, confused. Seeing the look, Bell laughed and slapped the young man on his back.

"We're farmers, Jay. Ever heard of Jango Fett?"

"Yeah, bounty hunter? Supposed to be the best, or something."

"Yep, one of them. His name, Fett, comes from the Mando'a word, _vhett_. Means farmer."

"You're kidding."

"Wish I was. Galaxy's most dangerous hunter is a country bumpkin."

Bell winked at Jay before walking off, and the young man just stood there for a few moments. The last few days had been an odd mix of boredom and fascination. The _Dead Ringer_ was old, very old, and it showed throughout; patches of rust, leaking pipes, groaning metal and some parts of the ship just plain falling apart. What time he hadn't spent dozing on his bunk had been spent doing what could only be described as hard labour, first with helping out in the engine room and fixing various loose parts, and second with getting the incredibly heavy boxes into the cargo hold, which hadn't been easy for the now-six man crew. He'd tried to get to know the others, but they'd been distant, not even offering introductions, and he got the feeling they were doing it on purpose, that he was only there temporarily.

He sighed to himself. Arkaan at least had exchanged words with him every so often, but it was probably more out of boredom than anything else. The other Mandalorian was staying in a passenger area, with his own cabin, something that Jay was somewhat jealous of, but he had no intentions of saying anything, for fear of sounding ungrateful. The two warriors had pulled him out of a sticky situation, and he owed them that much.

Something moved behind him, and he turned quickly, almost jumping.

"Why so jumpy?" asked Arkaan. He was dressed in just a pair of tattered shorts and t-shirt, with a towel draped over one shoulder, and, unusually for wandering around the bare-metal walkways of the ship, was barefoot.

"Uh, nothing, just didn't see you there."

"Right. I'm going to take a shower. Maybe you should get some rack time, might do you good."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Jay wandered off, still looking like he was lost and in a daze. Arkaan shook his head and carried on walking. Beside the crew quarters was a communal wash-room, into which Arkaan headed. It had sinks and a pair of cubicles with a shower nozzle in each, both of which ran off a timer system, giving you a minute of tepid water, then another minute for you to lather, then another two minutes to rinse off. Off to one side, two more cubicles contained toilets, both of which were empty at the moment. Arkaan hung his towel over one of the shower cubicle doors and decided to make use of one of the toilets.

As he did so, the sound of a spurt of water from one of the showers came through the door, and Arkaan frowned. Finishing what he was doing, he opened the door to investigate, and found the room empty. One of the shower nozzles was dribbling water, and he ran his fingers under it for a second, almost to confirm to himself that it was real. It shut off after a few more seconds, and he shrugged to himself, putting it down to another one of the quirks of an old ship.

He quickly stripped off what little clothes he was wearing and stepped into the other cubicle, hitting the button to activate the water cycle. Lukewarm water splashed onto his chest and he leaned forward into it, running it over his hair and face before pulling back, shaking his head and wiping off the excess water with his hand. He turned around into the cubicle, his back to the nozzle, blinked away water and froze.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"It's nice to see you too, _cyar'ika_."

"I'm not your _cyar'ika_ any more, remember?"

"My, my, so touchy?"

A hand snaked down between his legs and he smacked it away angrily.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked again, going nose to nose with the naked woman in front of him. She was shorter than him, and her green eyes twinkled with amusement, matching the sidelong grin on her face. Like him, her hair was wet and stuck to her scalp, but it didn't detract from her looks, and Arkaan found himself forcing his eyes to stay on her face and not on her shower-soaked body

"You mean a girl can't just stop by and visit every once in a while?" she teased, running a finger down his chest.

"Leave me the hell alone."

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me you don't enjoy my little visits."

"This is the fourth time in two weeks, and I still haven't gotten a straight answer out of you. If you want something, get it over with."

"Very well," she sighed, planting her hands on her hips. "The boy. Keep him with you."

"What, Jay? Why?"

"Because I say so." She gripped his cheeks in one hand and kissed him on the lips, slowly, before sinking down to her knees.

Arkaan closed his eyes.

Water spat onto his face, and he snapped his eyes open in surprise, quickly looking around. He was alone in the washroom, and in the cubicle next to him, the cycle shut itself down, cutting off the water supply as the water flowed in his own shower. He glanced down at his body and saw it had been soaped up already, as though he'd been in the shower for several minutes already. It was already beginning to disappear under the steady stream coming from the nozzle, and he shook his head, clamping his jaw shut hard in anger, making his teeth click together.

Not again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Grey clouds and drizzle met them on Mandalore.

An already overcast sky seemed to grow dark clouds through the fog of fine, drizzling rain. A cold breeze blew it onto Arkaan's face and he smiled. He could smell that familiar smell of cut, wet grass and the musky yet somehow clear smell of rain. The damp soil at his feet threatened to devolve into thick mud, but he didn't care. He'd been too long away from his home, and it was good to be back.

Behind him, the _Ringer_ had landed on a flat piece of earth, beaten into shape and hardened by years of use as a local landing pad. Two teams of droids unloaded the cargo, supervised by a portly man with a drooping moustache. Bell stood to one side rolling his eyes as the man fussed over the boxes, but mainly left him to it, considering they were his droids and it was his cargo he was unloading. Jay and the other crew members lounged around, two of them huddling beneath the bulk of the ship, sheltering from the rain, and the other two watched from inside the ramp itself, Jay sitting at the foot of the ramp, one hand supporting his chin, the other hand playing with the expensive datapad on his lap. It was obvious he was uncomfortable, and he kept alternating his stare between the datapad and the steppes beyond the small spaceport.

Arkaan turned and walked over to Bell, giving a wry grin as the older man walked away from the supervising of the cargo.

"I want the boy."

"Didn't know you swung that way."

"Funny. I want to take him with me."

"So first you make me take on some random boy we rescued from the street, then you make me take you from one end of the galaxy to the other, then you want to take that boy away from me after he starts getting useful? You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Yep."

"Take him," growled Bell. "He's useless to me anyway. Mind if I ask why?"

"You can ask."

"_Di'kut_."

"_Osi'yaim_."

Bell smiled and offered his arm to Arkaan, who took it, gripping his forearm tightly. He turned and made his way over to the ramp, gesturing to Jay. Confused, the boy got up, uncertainly following Arkaan around the back of the ship where a speeder bike and sidecar waited.

"You're coming with me," said Arkaan quietly, without preamble.

"What? I thought-"

"You thought wrong." Arkaan indicated the datapad in his hands. "Researching your new home?"

"Oh, no, I was writing."

"Writing?"

"Yes, I keep a diary, and I was writing about today."

"Let me have a look."

Wordlessly, Jay handed the datapad over and Arkaan flicked through a few pages, raising an eyebrow at certain passages. He swiftly changed files and scrolled through more pages, his fingers tapping their way through different pages and passages as Jay watches somewhat nervously. After a few minutes, he handed it back, the side of his mouth tugging itself up slightly into a grin.

"So you write more than just a diary." Jay's cheeks coloured slightly, and he glanced down, embarrassed. "Do you want something to really write about?"

"Uh…" Jay looked up, not sure if it was a trick. "Yes, ok. What kind of things?"

Arkaan grinned. "Get in the sidecar."

***

The next few hours were spent travelling, as Arkaan flew over the steppes on the bike. Inside the enclosed side-car, Jay spent the time fiddling with his datapad, making notes and trying to find a wireless network to connect to and becoming frustrated when he couldn't. Despite his helmet, Arkaan was almost deafened by the roaring of the wind, and after the first fifteen minutes, he'd activated the internal audio system, playing music he stored in there for just these occasions. An hour into the ride, they hit a road, turning onto it and following it through several winding turns and residential areas. A few ships flew past overhead, but they were few and far between, and did nothing to alleviate the boredom.

Eventually, they arrived at a more heavily populated area, with dusty houses lining dusty streets, none more than three stories high. As the population picked up, so did the traffic, with small speeders sharing the road with heavy transporters, stacked full of hay, corn, building blocks, and one that was even packed with wooden kegs.

Dodging a bus half-full of passengers, some semi-armoured, Arkaan pulled into the driveway of a two-story building, pushing the bike forwards with his feet until it was nose-first against a wall and beside a small, two-person speeder. The pair dismounted, Arkaan pulling off his helmet and shaking his head as though to clear it.

Jay looked up at the building, taking in the dirty windows, dark walls and untended garden, feeling even more out of place here on Mandalore, a galaxy away from the shiny, vertigo-inducing boulevards of high-living Coruscant.

"You live here?" he asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"This is home," replied Arkaan, setting his helmet on the seat of the bike as he fiddled with one of his gauntlets. "Lived here for about seven years now. Home is where your ammo is."

He grinned.

Unsure whether Arkaan was joking or not, Jay gave a wan smile and moved towards the door, looking around the street, flinching as an enormous cargo transporter roared past. Arkaan finished what he was doing and moved to the door, his helmet tucked under his arm. He waved his arm at the door, and it clicked as several locks disengaged before sliding open. They moved into the house, the door closing behind them, and Jay looked around the open-plan lower floor.

He could see right the way through to the rear of the house, with sofas and tables sectioning off different areas. The one exception was the kitchen, which had a bar unit facing a group of sofas and chairs, which were arranged around a new-looking holo unit, almost completely at odds with the battered look of the rest of house. Stairs to his left led up to the second floor, with the kitchen beyond it, the cooker and preparation units arranged along the wall. A computer terminal was set into the rear wall, with more chairs around it, and the rest of the space was taken up with work-tables, on top of which were half-finished and disassembled weapons, surrounded by tools. Transparisteel cabinets lined one wall, all of which were full of weapons – pistols, slug-throwers, blasters, heavy repeaters, knives, swords, vibro-weapons, and in one corner was even a Merr-Sonn missile launcher.

His helmet on the bar by the kitchen, Arkaan gestured for Jay to follow him as he chewed on a bar of something. The pair went upstairs, and Arkaan pointed at the different doors, indicating the refresher, Arkaan's bedroom, the room where Jay would be sleeping and a few others, which were off-limits.

"Get cleaned up, we're going out. Should be some clothes in there. Twenty minutes."

With that, Arkaan disappeared into his room, and Jay opened the door to the room that had been pointed out, closing it behind him and putting his back to it. The only way to describe it would be Spartan, with a bed against one wall, a wardrobe against another wall, and a table and chair beside the door.

Jay sat down on the bed, his head in his hands.

What was he doing here? In the space of a week, he'd managed to cross the galaxy, going from the only home he'd ever known to the very home of one of the most dangerous races in the galaxy, one spoken about in hushed tones and legends. Why was he here? A misguided sense of adventure? He'd already been nearly killed once, outside that bar, and if this Arkaan lived up to the reputation of his people and his somewhat mysterious offer back at the _Dead Ringer_, then it was more than likely that he was going to run into more situations which would put his life at risk.

Swallowing his misgivings, Jay decided if this was a test, one that would help make him into a man, then it wasn't one he'd back down from. He couldn't back down from it. Plus, it would give him something to really write about, as Arkaan has said.

The wardrobe had two doors, and Jay quickly shut the left-hand door as soon as he opened it. The pistol stuffed into his waistband, still in its holster, was bad enough, and he doubted he could wear a rifle instead of a pair of trousers. The right-hand door yielded a more successful result, with a few racks of shirts and neatly folded combat trousers stacked beside some underwear. The rest was filled with a few other pieces of clothing and accessories, and Jay spent the next ten minutes trying on different pieces of clothing, eventually finding some that fit reasonably well.

Almost as an afterthought, he attached the holster to the belt in his trousers, cinching it tighter to compensate for the added weight pulling on his newly-acquired trousers. A mirror was mounted on the inside of one of the wardrobe doors, and he watched himself in it, practicing drawing the pistol, fumbling it the first few times as he tried to figure out how to get into the holster, but getting better as he went.

Satisfied, he opened the door to the hallway and glanced out.

He frowned. No sign of Arkaan. He sat back down on the bed, and after a few minutes with no sign of the Mandalorian, he rummaged through his old clothes, finding his datapad and began fiddling with it again.

A few minutes later and the door to Arkaan's room opened, and Jay stood up quickly, thrusting the 'pad into one of the pockets of the jacket he'd appropriated.

Arkaan had on a long leather jacket with armoured panels on it, over black combat trousers and a dark grey shirt. His hair was still damp from showering, and he was pushing a small pistol into a holster in the small of his back as he stepped out of the room.

Seeing Jay, he laughed, slapping one hand onto his shoulder.

"Your holster…" he snorted. "Load-bearing belts don't hold up your trousers. Put another belt on if you want to carry that around with you. And tidy up your clothes too, don't just leave them strewn all over the floor. No man-servants in this house, _ad'ika_."

Arkaan shook his head at the boy as he disappeared back into the room. The kid had a lot to learn before he could become really useful.

Downstairs, Arkaan waited for Jay on one of the chairs, relaxing for the few minutes in one of the chairs. Across from him, mounted on the wall, was a transparent case, inside of which were mounted six lightsabres, all of them of different designs. He stared at it, the memories they brought back threatening to take him back to how he acquired them.

Footsteps brought him back to reality, and he stood quickly, ushering Jay out the door

.

***

The cantina was brightly lit, with rows of bottles and containers lining the wall behind the bar. A holo played in one corner, muted news repeating major stories from across the planet and the galaxy, and the patrons sat talking quietly, nursing their drinks.

Arkaan frowned as he walked in. The atmosphere was more muted than usual, and he motioned for Jay to sit at a table whilst he ordered drinks.

The barman nodded a greeting, which Arkaan returned before asking for two drinks.

"So who died?" he asked.

"Other than your sense of humour?" shot back the barman. Arkaan grinned.

"What's going on? Seems a bit too quiet in here."

"Galaxy's at war again, _vod_, and this time, it's nothing to do with us."

"Since when?"

"Where the hell have you been the past few weeks? Palpatine ordered the creation of an army for the Republic, then a couple of days later, those Separatists kidnapped a couple of _jetiise_, tried to kill 'em, but ended up being rescued by this new army."

"They raised an army in a couple of days?"

"I know. Turns out they're clones, cloned from Jango Fett. He was killed during the rescue too."

"They killed the Fett?"

"Yep. No-one knows who did, or what happened; all we know is, he's dead, but apparently some kid's been sighted with the Fett name."

"Hmmm. So, war, eh? Should mean more business for us, hopefully."

"So they say. Apparently battle-lines are already being drawn, and there's no telling how many little warlords will use this as an excuse to settle grudges or go after that piece of land they always wanted."

"I don't question the motives, _vod_, just the job. Know of anything locally?"

"The war hasn't reached us yet, it's only a few days old, but your best bet for that kind of thing would be to hit the Core, maybe Coruscant itself if you can get there."

Arkaan snorted. He'd just done all he could to get off that planet, and now he was being told to go back. Irony just didn't quite cut it.

"Thanks, _vod_." He flipped a high denomination coin onto the counter. "Keep the change."

The barman deftly palmed the coin, catching Arkaan's eye as he turned.

"One more thing. These clones, they're being commanded by the Jedi. So I'd be careful about asking for a job from the Republic, especially with your record, Noa."

Arkaan nodded his thanks and moved to the table Jay had sat down at, setting the two glasses down and taking a long drink from one.

"What happened?" asked Jay quietly.

"Republic's at war with itself. Separatists attacked the Jedi and now the two groups are at war."

"It'll blow over soon, right? I mean, these things never last long."

"Hopefully not too soon, I need to start making a clean living again."

"What?"

"I hunt, and I do jobs, but I'm best at being a soldier, Jay. It's what I do. What we all do. Look, you wanted something to write about. This could be it. Stick around, and you might see some things. We'll call you…we'll call you my official journalist, my biographer if you like."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Honestly? You wouldn't believe me. Suffice to say, out of the goodness of my own heart. Don't mess me around though, because I do have limits."

"OK."

Jay took a sip from the glass in front of him and nearly spat it out, grimacing wildly as he swallowed it with visible effort. Arkaan snorted at him.

"_Ne'tra gal_," he said. "Takes getting used to, but it'll put hairs on your chest. Drink up, I've got some favours to call in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

A low mist hugged the ground, obscuring the details of anything over a few meters away. The grey air was tinged with green, with low light dimly illuminating the muddy ground underfoot. Dark shapes in the mist hinted at trees, and the occasional croak and moan suggested at some sort of indigenous life.

Jay crouched on his haunches, examining an oddly out of place brightly coloured flower, his breath puffing out in white clouds every few seconds. A dark cloak was draped over his shoulders, and he had on a thin shirt over thick trousers, and the contrast was making him shiver. Verses ran through his head, metaphors and adjectives fighting to be heard, and he reached his hand out to stroke the petals.

"I wouldn't touch that, if I were you," came a quiet voice over the comm. "Might be poisonous."

Jay jerked his head up in surprise, jerking his hand back. One of the dark shapes moved and materialized into the familiar armoured form of Arkaan, wearing full armour and carrying a rifle, his T-visored helmet turned skyward.

Before he could greet him, a low background hum that Jay had mistook for the mist built into a deafening roar and the mist was pierced for a few seconds by a trio of bright lights which quickly swept overhead.

"It's alright, they're friends," said Arkaan, noticing Jay's worried look. "Get back on board and don't make any sign you're there."

They'd picked up Arkaan's ship, the _Tracyn'senaar_, back on Mandalore from a long-term berth at a space port just outside of Keldabe. It was a small, heavily armoured ex-naval courier vessel that had been modified with several hard points for weaponry and heavier shields. It was also made for a minimum crew of two, but was designed to be crewed by four. A friend of Arkaan's had reworked the controls and introduced an AI to help smooth the running of the vessel, and coupled with the more practical, almost modular engine compartment, meant to make repairs by enlisted personnel easier, the ship practically ran itself. One of the more recent modifications involved a droid body, programmed to house the AI, and several ports throughout the ship where the droid could be plugged into to facilitate the transfer.

"Abandon you, did he?"

Jay frowned at the speaker next to his head as he ascended the ramp. He was still getting used to the disembodied voice floating after him, which had spent the journey to this moon in some system he couldn't pronounce pestering him with questions. The few times he'd seen Arkaan talk to the AI had made him suspect the voice was based on someone Arkaan knew, but the Mandalorian hadn't been particularly forthcoming on the subject and dodged all questions on it.

"My, you are talkative. Just when I thought we were getting friendly." An electronically filtered sigh came through the speaker. Jay wondered how it was possible. "I'll punch up the external comms and visual to the cockpit if it'll cheer you up."

"Yes, thanks, that would be nice."

"Oh, so polite. Wherever did Arkaan find you?"

"In a bar in Coruscant."

Another sigh.

"Yes, he did mention it. _Shabuir_. I haven't forgiven him."

Reaching the cockpit, Jay sat down in the co-pilots seat as the screen in front of the padded chair came alive, zooming in on Arkaan as he waited, his rifle resting under his arm on the sling, his hands folded over the top of the barrel.

"I can hear you, you know," said Arkaan, his rough voice being filtered by the comm.

"I know, _cyar'ika_. We wouldn't want you uninformed now, would we?"

"_Ne'johaa_."

"So rude."

It was Arkaan's turn to sigh this time, the comm crackling under his breath.

Above the ship, the trio of lights appeared again, rotating slightly as they dipped, settling several meters away from Arkaan and began descending. The mist darkened and the noise increased, a pitched whine filling the air. The mist itself began to disperse as the air pressure beneath the lights changed slightly and Arkaan found himself almost completely shrouded in the damp cloud. Above him, a dark shape appeared behind the lights, and gradually coalesced into a Corellian-style freighter, with distinctive twin saucers and a cockpit thrusting forward. Jets spurted from the bottom as landing struts extended, and the low rumble of the engines cut out to be replaced with the high whine of the repulsorlifts, rising in intensity as it began to settle.

Hovering above his head, the vessel span on a vertical axis, rotating until the cockpit was facing Arkaan. Then, it descended, straight down, eventually settling down on the struts, the very tip of the cockpit resting a couple of feet above Arkaan's head.

Beneath his helmet, Arkaan grinned.

The ramp thumped down behind the cockpit, and three figures appeared, one small and wearing a long coat, another very tall and very hairy, and the last was wearing a hooded cloak, almost gliding behind the others. Though he knew the vessel held at least another four crew, he'd only been expecting to see the shorter of the trio, and whilst the taller was no less a welcome sight, the third, unfamiliar figure made him immediately uneasy.

Mentally shrugging it off, he moved towards them, moving the rifle on its sling so the barrel was pointed towards the ground, with the stock hovering behind his shoulder.

"_Shab'la_ show-off," he called out.

"And you haven't lost your flair for the dramatic, I see," returned the shortest of the three, his arms outstretched to indicate the mist.

"A man's got to have some mystery about him."

The two reached each other and gripped their forearms in the age-old greeting. In the interests of being polite, Arkaan reached up and pulled off his helmet, clipping it to his side. The cold, damp air hit his face, raising goose bumps, and he smiled at the three.

"Hey there, hairy," he said to the Wookiee. No-one really knew his real name, so all sorts of monikers had been given, but none had really stuck, bar a few along the lines of hairy and 'big-guy'. But he was fairly well known around the circuit, due to the rarity of his species amongst the Mandalorians.

Behind the Wookiee, a woman stepped out, suspicion in her eyes. Arkaan barely held back squinting in recognition, despite her actually wearing clothes this time, and watched as she moved around behind the smallest of the three, the one in the robes. Disgust was evident on her face as she shot daggers with her eyes at the figure, before moving around behind them. She didn't reappear on the other side, and Arkaan turned his attention to the person beneath the robes.

"You, I don't know," he said, trying to catch as much as he could from what little was showing. A hood hid their features, and the robe came together at the front, leaving a slither of lighter cloth from the tunic underneath. Suspicion began to form in his mind as the first man stepped in front of Arkaan, an almost apologetic look on his face.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said, his arms raised slightly.

"This some kind of trick, _vod_? You are still the Harl Raven whose butt I pulled out of that mess on Corellia, right?"

"Of course I am. Look, the Republic is looking for people to support their troops, people who know their stuff. That means us, and they're paying good money for them too. That's why I contacted you, thought you might want in on it."

"The Republic? This a Jedi?"

"Yes, I am, Mr. Arkaan, and I've heard all about you."

"I bet you have."

"My name is Marcla," she began, but Arkaan cut her off.

"I don't care who you are. What the hell is this, Harl?"

"A legitimate job offer. Nothing more, nothing less."

Beside Raven, the Jedi pulled her hood down, revealing her almost pure white features. White hair framed a white face, with white eyes and pupils, separated by blue flecks. She half-smiled at him, trying to be friendly, and sharpened teeth glinted behind light blue lips. She was classically beautiful, almost delicate, but something in her face and eyes took away from the effect, a certain aloofness and disconnection making her seem almost unnatural.

_Arkanian_, thought Arkaan. _Didn't think there were any Arkanian Jedi_.

Raven pulled on Arkaan's arm, pulling him off to one side, away from the other two.

"This is for real, _vod_. I know you have a thing against the _jetiise_, but this isn't about them. What do you know about the clones?"

"They came out of nowhere, apparently cloned from Jango."

"That's right," nodded Harl. "A lot of them were trained by him and some other Mando'_ade_, but they need the experience we can give them. I've heard the Separatists are recruiting much the same way, but there's no way I'd work with them. These clones, they're our _vode_, our family. We can't just turn our back on them."

"Are you trying to pull a guilt-trip on me?"

"Is it working?"

"Nope. But I could use the money, and I'm not very good at sitting around doing _shab_-all. How much if this work is with the Jedi?"

"I won't lie, it's a lot. They're supposed to be the Generals in this war, but you and I both know it'll be the clones doing the fighting and dying, and they don't need some _laandur_, _di'kutla jetii_ leading them, they need people like us. So, what do you say?"

Arkaan looked over at the Jedi, who was being studiously ignored by the Wookiee. She was trying not to watch them, but he knew, just _knew_ she was trying her best to eavesdrop. Despite what he'd come to expect, she hadn't tried any of her mind-tricks on him to get him to join, and for that much, he was grateful. He didn't like it, though, it stank, but a lot of what Raven was saying was hitting home, and he could feel himself wanting to say yes.

Looking back at the Jedi, the woman from before was standing behind her again. He blinked, and she stared right back at him, before nodding and smiling. Arkaan nodded in return and turned back to Raven.

"Alright, I'll do it. Where do I report in, sir?" he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Triple Zero itself, Noa. Coruscant." Raven gestured towards the other two again, and they moved back towards them.

"That could be a problem for me," replied Arkaan, warily. "I'm a wanted man there."

"That won't be a problem," said Marcla smoothly. "We'll make sure you're not pursued by the authorities."

"Free pass, eh? You really were prepared to butter me up."

"Worked, didn't it?" said Raven.

"Sure did. I've got someone with me, too, young guy. I'm showing him the ropes, for now, so I'll need him cleared too."

"Again, not a problem. It'll be a pleasure working with you."

The Jedi held out a clawed hand, and Arkaan looked at it for a second before grunting and turning to walk back to his ship.

"Hey, Noa?"

He turned, and Raven tossed him a datacard.

"See you on Coruscant."

***

Back on board the _Tracyn'senaar_, Jay and the AI had been abruptly cut off from listening in by Arkaan removing his helmet, and all they could do was watch as he met with the other three.

"_Shabuir,_" muttered a console next to Jay's head. "He could've let us listen in instead of turning off his comm like that."

"Maybe it's a secret meeting that we shouldn't be listening to."

The console laughed.

"_Cyar'ika_, I run the _Tracyn'senaar_ for Arkaan. There's not many secrets he can keep from me, not that he'd want to anyway."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I can make his life hell if I want to. It can be fun sometimes too."

"I'm not really sure I want to know."

"You're right."

They say in silence for a few minutes, watching as Arkaan was pulled off to one side by the man.

"Do you know them?" asked Jay quietly.

"I recognise the Wookiee, and the man is Harl Raven, an old friend of Arkaan's, but I don't recognise the other. I've been scanning her, and it appears she's Arkanian, but with all the different sub-species of Arkanian out there, there's no real way to be certain which one she is. But, from her robes, I'd say she was a Jedi."

"A Jedi?" gasped Jay. Despite growing up on Coruscant with rich parents, he'd not had much contact with the legendary lightsabres wielders, but had grown up with tales of their exploits, and as such, was in awe of the robed Jedi, believing them to be almost god-like in their abilities.

"You say that like you actually admire them," replied the AI.

"Well, if it's a Jedi, then maybe we'll be doing some good."

Hysterical laughter came over several speakers in the cockpit, almost as though it was mocking him as it echoed around the small space.

"You really are naïve, aren't you? The Jedi are nothing but a bunch of self-righteous wannabe-police. They claim to protect the galaxy, but who decides we need protecting? And from what? There aren't enough of them to really make a difference, and their beliefs border on the ridiculous. You just wait, _ad'ika_, one mission with those _di'kute_ and you'll see what they're really like."

"You're wrong. They uphold law and order, and promote peace; they negotiate treaties, rescue people…"

"Grow up, Jay. Stop watching those holo-vids and get in touch with the real world. The Jedi are full of _osik_."

Jay sat in silence, mulling over her words before turning back to one of the consoles beside him.

"Do you have a name?"

"I have a few. Some call me by the name of the ship, others just call me 'ship', or 'AI'. Arkaan calls me something else, but that's private. I'm programmed to sound and be like an old flame of his. He thinks I don't know, and that it's just a pet name, but the guy who programmed me told me all about her. Said it was the best way to make me like her."

"Can I call you Tracy?"

"_Shab,_ no! That's horrible. Just call me Senaar, sounds much better."

"Yeah, alright."

Outside, Arkaan turned and walked back towards the ship, leaving the other three to head back to their own. The lights they'd first seen threw off strange shadows, hooded as they were by the landing struts they illuminated. Jay followed them with their eyes as the ascended the ramp into darkness. A few seconds later, the ship lifted off, the lamps trailing a path through the milky sky, disappearing after a few minutes.

Footsteps on the ramp announced Arkaan coming on board, and Jay quickly exited the cockpit, moving back through the ship until he came to the mess area. Arkaan was setting his rifle on the table, and looked up as the younger man approached.

"So?" piped up one of the speakers.

"So we have a job, and we have to go to Coruscant."

"You're actually taking me this time? I'm touched."

"Shut up. It's for the Republic, helping out this new army of theirs, but we might be working alongside Jedi."

"And you took it? _Me'ven, vod_?"

"It's good money, so don't get all high-and-mighty on me. Unlike you, some of us have to eat to survive. Plus we'll be working with those clones, and they might have some interesting hardware I haven't seen before. Anyway, make ready to take off, plot in a course for Coruscant. We leave as soon as possible."

"Does it have to be Coruscant?" asked Jay quietly, catching Arkaan's eye.

The older man looked across at him and frowned. He'd forgotten about the boy's past and the circumstances of how he came to be in that bar, and the look in his eyes made it clear he'd rather be on Kessel. He moved over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, we'll probably spend a few days or weeks there getting sorted, most of it in military installations, well away from the rich parts and privately owned docks. And if anyone recognises you, we'll just tell them I conscripted you. Actually, might be worth getting you a _buy'ce_, cover your face."

"A boo-shay?"

"A bucket. A helmet. Full-face, like mine. Do we have any lying around?"

"I think there's one in the cargo hold, in your storage tank. The one that doesn't exist," intoned Senaar.

"Oh, right. I'll dig it out later. In the mean time, get us airborne, if you would. I need some food."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

The mottled blue tunnel of hyperspace exploded into a mess of elongated stars as the _Tracyn'senaar_ reverted back to realspace. Specks became ships and satellites and a disc became Coruscant itself as they decelerated towards them, rushing up towards the canopy of the cockpit before stopping almost dead in front of them.

It was something Arkaan had never quite gotten used to, and judging by the reaction of Jay next to him, he wasn't the only one who got caught by it. The viewpoint shifted slightly as Senaar corrected their angle of approach, and lights began twinkling on the console from the communication with the ground. Faint noises from the comm sounded, and Jay listened in to Senaar exchanging pleasantries and data with a flight controller, negotiating an entry slot.

A secondary light winked on above the comm console, but this time a much louder voice came over it.

"This is the _Iron Fist_ hailing the, uh, _Tracey__ Seenar_, acknowledge."

Arkaan sighed and leaned forward, slipping a switch.

"This is Captain Arkaan of the _Tracyn'senaar_, acknowledging."

"Hold for Colonel Raven."

"So he's a Colonel now?" muttered Senaar before Arkaan shushed her.

"Noa! Glad you could make it! Change of plan, _vod_, we're heading out ASAP. Rendezvous and land on the _Iron Fist_ so we can get underway."

"Alright, shall do. See you in a few."

Before Arkaan had even finished speaking, the view outside the cockpit tilted as the _Tracyn'senaar_ swung around, and the heavily armoured vessel began threading its way through the traffic floating just inside the upper atmosphere of Coruscant.

A large dagger shaped vessel began to grow even bigger as they were guided closer by the AI. Other, similar shaped ships floated around it in formation, with smaller support vessels flitting around them, ferrying men and equipment between the Acclamator-class vessels.

A few minutes later, the _Tracyn'senaar_ finally settled on its landing struts in the hangar of the _Iron Fist_. Massive doors closed and a low vibration sounded through the ship as the ramp lowered, Arkaan standing on the lip as it descended. Behind him, Jay was pulling on a jacket and securing the flap of the holster on his hip.

White armoured figures raced around outside the smaller vessel, and Arkaan turned his attention to the tall ships racked up along the walls of the hangar. They were roughly triangular in cross-section, with a bulging cockpit section and canvas webbing lined the ceiling of the cargo area. Two ball-shaped turrets sat at the front end, and two stubby wings protruded from above the cargo area, with rocket pods thrusting forward on top.

"It's called a LAAT/i, and I have no idea what that stands for. C'mon, we need to get moving, they're making the jump to lightspeed any minute now. Hi, how're you doing?" said Raven, directing his last statement to Jay over Arkaan's shoulder.

Jay nodded at him, and behind him, a silver-plated droid appeared, the smooth armour shining in the harsh lights of the hangar. Senaar, now in her droid form, hefted a rifle, swinging it over and almost hitting Jay in the crotch with the muzzle. Raven gestured and the four of them moved off though the hangar, dodging technicians and soldiers

Seeing the helmets of the clone troopers around him, Jay moved up next to Arkaan and nudged him. He nodded, the similarity to the iconic Mandalorian helmet not lost on him. His own helmet was back on board the _Tracyn'senaar_ with the rest of his armour, having left it behind, not thinking he'd need it.

They made their way through the ship, taking turbo-lifts and moving through security checkpoints. Eventually they arrived at the bridge and Raven swept them in past the two upright guards with a wave of an ID badge. He guided them over to stand behind a grey-suited officer, who was currently engaged in making sure the jump went as planned, coordinating the different efforts from the helm and navigation consoles. A countdown began over the speaker system and the bridge almost cleared as officers and ensigns took up their stations.

The countdown hit zero and the stars beyond elongated as the enormous ship made the transition into hyperspace. The engine noise changed pitch as the hyperspace engines took over and the ship began to quiet down for the long journey to wherever they were headed.

The captain turned around and caught Raven's eye before heading over.

"Captain, this is Noa Arkaan, the man I was telling you about," said Raven, introducing the two.

"Ah, yes, the advisor. I'm Captain Renauld Pell, welcome aboard the _Iron Fist_. I trust your stay here will be pleasant."

"Well that depends on the nature of our adventures on board. I don't suppose you can tell us where we're headed?"

"I don't see why not. We've received intelligence that the Separatists are planning on a move on Corellia, and we're spearheading an assault on one of their staging areas in the out-lying systems."

"Right into the thick of it, then."

"Very much so. By the way, I don't know if the captain here told you, but we're bestowing all you with a brevet rank of colonel, with the rank and pay of a captain until it can be confirmed by the higher-ups. Congratulations. Now to show you to your quarters. Ensign?"

A young uniformed officer stepped forward and saluted smartly before gesturing for Arkaan, Jay and Senaar to follow him.

***

After an episode involving Senaar demanding to know where her room was, a thoroughly confused and embarrassed ensign left, leaving them to arrange the transfer of some of their gear to the quarters. After getting it sorted, they joined Captain Pell in the command centre of the ship, where he and another man wearing dark armour over short black robes were poring over maps and holographic representations of the target area. Green and red markers showed known and expected troop positions, as well as angles of attack and rendezvous and fall-back points and projections on how the battle would progress.

The man in the dark robes and armour looked up as Arkaan and Jay approached and frowned at them.

"Who the _fierfek_ are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Noa Arkaan, this is Jay, my assistant."

"Right, the Mandalorian. I'm Jaro Hoday, General of the 78th Assault Battalion. Jay have a second name?"

"No. This the attack?" asked Arkaan, indicating the holo display in front of them.

"Yep, what do you think?"

"I think you've got all your bases covered. What do you have in the way of aerial and heavy fire support?"

"The LAAT/i gunships will provide top cover, but I don't anticipate we'll need much artillery, but if we do, Captain Pell and his heavy guns are standing by, and we've drilled extensively in coordinating between ground and the ship. We're a battalion of shock troops, Mr. Arkaan, we work hard and fast."

"We? You're a Jedi, aren't you? I was under the impression you only took command of the clone troops a few weeks ago."

"I did, but you can learn a lot in three weeks, as I'm sure you're fully aware."

"If you say so. How long until we hit Corellian space?"

"Three days, give or take a few hours or so."

"That fast?"

"That's the beauty of a military vessel, Mr. Arkaan. We have the ability and an excuse to push already powerful engines to beyond their listed specifications."

"Alright then. What are your plans for the remainder of the trip?"

"Drills and briefings for the troops and weapons and equipment maintenance checks."

"Well, just let us know when we're an hour or so out and we'll make sure we're ready for the drop. How are we inserting and what role do you want us to play?"

"It'll be a contested aerial insertion, using the LAAT/i gunships, with fire from the _Iron Fist_ to soften up the target first. I want you and your associates to go in with the second wave, over which Colonel Raven have tactical command. The plan is to drop troops in here, and here, and on top, here, then move your troops straight up the middle, dropping them here, just outside the facility and using them to crush any remaining resistance. We'll have reserves ready to move as a third wave, but I don't think we'll need them."

"What about their naval assets? I assume there'll be some sort of unofficial blockade of the system, so getting to the planet in the first place could be a bit of a problem."

"We've got that covered. Ours is just the ground assault aspect of the attack, we'll be jumping in after another fleet has pounded their ships to dust."

"In that case, why not just bombard the base from orbit and have done with it?"

"Because we want the base relatively intact. It's in a convenient place, located just off three different major trade routes to and from the Core, and controlling those lanes will be vital to the war effort."

"So you're sending in troops to take the base. This had better be worth it, Jaro, or you'll be throwing away the lives of these men for nothing."

"I know, and I've made it clear to High Command that if I feel the base is too well defended, I won't hesitate to blow it to Naboo. So, any thoughts on the plan?"

"Looks like it'll work, but if I were you, I'd get some long-range fire support along here, either snipers or heavy gunners, or a combination of both if you've got them. You might also want to task some of your gunships on a close-in air-support role, with some troops on board as a quick reaction force in case something goes wrong and the men on the ground need the extra support of a few more rifles to see them through. How many men can those LAAT/i things take?"

"Thirty men, give or take."

"I'd say three should do it in that case, but again, it's your call, and I don't know how many of the things you have to hand."

"We have enough to task a quick reaction force for each of the waves."

"What kind of enemy strength are we facing?"

"It's part of a planetary invasion force, so we figure on upwards of a thousand battle droids, not including support troops, and we think at least half of that are the new B2 Super Battle Droids."

Arkaan looked at him whilst Jay made no effort to stop his jaw from dropping.

"You want to take a single battalion against several thousand battle droids? You're a General, I thought you'd have access to whole regiments, never mind one battalion. How good are these clones anyway?"

"Perhaps you should be the one to tell me that, Captain Arkaan. After all, it was your people that trained them."

Arkaan paused for a second. He knew they'd been cloned from a Mandalorian, but trained by them as well? It kind of made sense, seeing as their progenitor was a warrior from a race known for their paternal instincts, but one man to train an army of millions? How many Mandalorians had been involved as well as Jango Fett?

He made a mental note to find out as much as he could.

"If they've been trained by real Mando'_ade_ then they'll show you a thing or two about soldiering."

"I should hope so, Captain. Look, I'd heard the 78th had been trained hard, and that there were none as good as them for shock tactics and assaults. I'm not exactly known amongst the Jedi as having pacifistic beliefs, if you know what I mean, so I decided that if I was going to command troops, it had better be ones that knew what they were doing and could take the fight to the heart of the enemy. Stormtroopers fit that bill, so here I am, commanding a single battalion against a thousand or so battle droids. You can stand there and look down on me all you like, but so long as you give me the help I need to do a good job of commanding them and getting the victories we need, then I'll see what I can do in making it worth your while, in any way I can. Alright?"

Raven looked at Arkaan, a slightly bemused look on his face, and he nodded, indicating that Arkaan was free to speak for all of them.

"All we ask is that you don't get in our way. If anything we ask for or do seems strange, you have to know that there'll be a good reason behind it, or we wouldn't be doing it. And just remember, war is hell, so don't expect to come out of this smelling of roses and dripping with medals. We can make the hard choices you might not be able to, so I suggest you use that wherever possible. Aside from that, if you practice what you preach, then we should get along fine."

"Thank you, Noa. May I call you Noa?"

"If you want, but everyone just calls me Arkaan."

The two shook hands, and Hoday nodded at Raven and Jay.

"I have a question," asked Hoday, his brow furrowing with curiosity.

"Go ahead," replied Arkaan.

"Are the stories about you true? The ones about you and the Jedi sent after you?"

"That's two questions, Mr. Hoday. But the fact that I'm standing here talking to you should have given you the answer before you even asked."

Before he could react, Arkaan inclined his head at Jay and the pair of them walked out of the command centre, leaving Raven laughing his head off at Hoday's even more confused look and Captain Pell shaking his head.

***

The next few days were spent in frantic preparation for Jay as Arkaan did his best to get him prepared for the coming fight. They requisitioned a set of armour and customized it, painting it black and modifying it to fit Jay's shorter and slightly less toned frame, using only certain plates and filling the rest of the space with webbing, pouches and equipment. The helmet itself was painted all black with a red stripe running vertically up and over it, and Arkaan matched it with one running down the breast-plate. The pistol went onto a separate belt, hung with various other pouches, including more power packs for it and the DC15 carbine they'd also picked up from the armoury.

In addition to the equipment side, they also spent time running through drills, with the pair of them taking part in exercises and drills with the clone troopers whilst Raven and the Wookiee watched in amusement. Hoday sometimes joined them, and despite his misgivings, it looked to Arkaan like the man was actually trying to engage with the troops as well as familiarize himself with the job of leading them.

The first time Jay fired the carbine, he ended up nearly dropping it, and, when they'd finished laughing their heads off, Raven, Arkaan and the gunnery sergeant in charge of the ship-board firing range showed him how to shoot properly, giving him tips and changing his stance and the way he fired until he was able to hit the targets that popped up with a reasonable degree of accuracy. They repeated the process with the pistol, and even gave him the chance to practice with a few training grenades.

After three days, Arkaan knew Jay wasn't ready for the battle, but the preparations they'd made would have to do. Even so, he'd have to watch him carefully and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. He'd have to get Senaar to help him, since juggling command of a few hundred clone troopers and looking after Jay wasn't something he was looking forward to.

***

"Make ready to revert to realspace in twenty minutes. All personnel report to stations, advisers to the bridge."

Arkaan looked up at the ceiling as the announcement came over the speakers and looked back down at Jay. They were both sat in a shared room adjoining their cabins, with the stripped parts of their rifles laid out on the table in front of them. At a gesture from Arkaan, they both stood and swiftly made their way out of their cabin and through the vessel.

Outside a turbo-lift leading to the bridge level, they were met by Raven and the Wookiee, who both nodded at the other two before boarding the elevator.

Another announcement came over the tannoy system as they arrived on the bridge, letting the ship know they were ten minutes out. Captain Pell looked up and approached them, waving away some ensigns as he went.

"We're ten minutes out from the staging area. Once we arrive, we'll load the troops onto the gunships and make ready to launch them. I estimate an hour before we're ready, so use that time to get ready yourselves and get to your marshalling points. Good luck, gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

With that, Pell turned on his heel and the ensigns moved back in. Two clone troopers, one bearing a full size DC15 rifle, the other a short carbine, stepped up beside them.

"Sir," said one to Arkaan. "We're to escort you to your marshalling points when you're ready."

"Alright then, just stick with us until then. You, stick with Jay and myself, whilst you go with Raven. I'll see you on the deck, _vode_." This last statement he directed at Raven himself, who threw a mock salute and dragged the Wookiee and the clone trooper with him.

Arkaan, meanwhile, pulled Jay into a niche with an engineering console, putting his hand out for the trooper to give them some privacy.

"Listen, Jay, I need to talk to you about something."

"Alright," replied Jay, a little on edge.

"I need to know that when the time comes, you can pull the trigger. I know we'll be facing battle droids, but the principal is the same, and if you can't shoot when a target presents itself, whether it be a battle droid or a Neimodian officer, or even a mercenary, Wookiee, human, Rodian or otherwise, I need to know now."

"I think I can do it."

"Thinking and doing are two different things. Ever had to defend yourself? Hit someone?"

"I've been in a few fights."

"How did you do?"

"I lost."

"But did you hit back, get a few smacks in?"

"Yes, I broke one guy's nose and apparently another was urinating blood for a while."

The trooper looked round in alarm as Arkaan burst out laughing and turned away when Arkaan patted Jay's shoulder.

"That's good, there's hope for you then. Just stick close to Senaar and keep your head down. You know your equipment, you know how to use your weapons, so trust them and you'll do alright. C'mon, we need to get ready."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

Two rockets streaked overhead, followed by a pair of gunships, roaring through the smoky contrails in an overcast sky. Flickers of light through the clouds gave testament to the battle still going on in the upper atmosphere, and the occasional meteor of debris streaked down, most burning up in the atmosphere but some impacting mightily on the battlefield.

One of the rockets slammed into a reinforced bunker, passing straight through firing slit and exploded, sending sheets of flame out of the opening and blowing the sealed hatch at the rear clear off its hinges.

"Go!" yelled Arkaan as loud as he could, bellowing it over the comm. "Move, move!"

Matching actions to words, he put his head down and charged, his legs pumping as hard as he could as he propelled himself towards the remains of the bunker that had been holding up his wave of reinforcements. The droids they were now stuck fighting had appeared from nowhere behind the first wave, cutting off Hoday and his troops and decimating them in the first few minutes. With one of the bunkers gone, Arkaan could now move up and into the base to clear the way and relieve Hoday.

He glanced around and was gratified to see a wall of white armoured clones either side of him, keeping pace even as he ran as fast as he could. A flash of silver behind him announced the presence of Senaar, and, he presumed, Jay somewhere in her close vicinity.

Off to his left, bright flashes appeared as heavy repeaters opened up on the extreme left of the line, cutting down dozens of troopers before any of them had any time to react. Unable to do anything, Arkaan kept his head down and kept up the charge, the barrel of his rifle waving around madly as he ran.

The bunker came and went and Arkaan clambered up and over, using the firing slit as a foothold. Below him, Senaar and Jay went around, along with the majority of the other clones, pouring around it like a stone in a river. A few troopers joined him on top of the bunker, using the increased elevation to set up a heavy repeating blaster on a tripod. Another pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars and leveled them, before being hit by a screaming red bolt, throwing him backwards off the bunker. Arkaan, his mind on automatic, threw a few hand signals at the clones with the repeater and was surprised when they instantly responded and began laying down a withering hail of fire. Return fire came their way, and they responded in kind, throwing kilojoules of energy at the origin of the enemy fire.

Beyond the bunker was a long stretch of ground, broken only by the dead bodies of clone troopers and the wreckage of battle droids and a long fence and gate structure, half of which were blown down or destroyed. Beyond the gate, more bunkers covered the approaches, and behind them, a wall rose, above which was littered with the remains of several anti-air turrets and landing pads. Hundreds of droids lined the walls and occupied the bunkers, and as he watched, they all began firing at the outside range of their weaponry, putting down the fiercest display of firepower he'd ever seen.

"Arkaan to all troops, hold your current positions and find cover!"

The charge, already faltering under the fire, ground to a halt, and the concrete approaches began to look like it had snowed. Arkaan hopped down off the bunker and gestured to the nearest trooper with a radio pack.

"Get the _Iron Fist_ on the horn, and get them to put some fire down on those positions. See if you can't get some of those gunships to start laying some more of those rockets into those bunkers too. Go!"

The trooper ducked down, one hand on his helmet and the other playing with the controls of the datapad controlling the set on his back. Behind him, another two troopers approached, one with another set on his back, the other with the blue markings of a lieutenant. The officer saluted Arkaan and pulled his helmet off. Arkaan started and stared for a second at the man's sweat- and dirt-streaked face. It was the first time he'd seen one with their helmet off, and whilst he could see the resemblance to Jango Fett, there was enough different in his face that it was clear they were two different people. The man frowned at him and, catching himself, Arkaan pulled off his own helmet.

"Sir, we picked up some transmissions from inside. It sounds like General Hoday and his troops have barricaded themselves in the staging area and are under murderous fire from the tinnies. Hoday says…he says we have his permission to level the facility, and that we should not waste any more men trying to get him out."

"How the hell are we able to pick up his transmission now?" asked Arkaan. Communication with the Jedi had been cut off at the same time that his own troops had been cut off, and no-one have been able to figure out why or where the jamming signal was coming from.

"We're not sure sir," replied the radio trooper, his voice coming through electronically filtered. "But he must have somehow found a way to punch through the jamming. With enough power, it's possible, but where exactly he got the power…I don't know."

"Can you send a reply?"

"We can transmit, but whether he'll hear it or not is another matter."

"Alright, tell him he's a _di'kut_ and to stop trying to be such a _shab'la_ hero. We'll get him out, it'll just take some time."

"Yes sir. A question, sir?"

"Go ahead."

"What's a _di'kut_?"

"Just send the damn message."

"Yes sir."

Turning back to the other radio trooper, Arkaan got a thumbs up and he nodded, replacing his helmet. A roar from outside caught his attention, and he watched somewhat in awe as thirty LAAT/i gunships raced in and unleashed a barrage of missiles, filling the sky with contrails. They all hit within a few seconds of each other and the entire wall disappeared in a sheet of flame.

As if to add insult to injury, the skies lit up from above and several enormous turbolaser blasts destroyed the clouds above them and lanced into the flames, spreading them further. Shockwaves echoed across the battlefield, blowing Arkaan and the men around him onto their backs and hurling tons of debris and smoke into the air.

Groggily, Arkaan pulled himself to his feet and was almost disgusted at himself to see the clones already up and moving, checking themselves and their comrades over before offering their help to him. He waved them away and checked his rifle, and a check of the battlefield showed him the majority of the troopers in front of him were getting to their feet.

Without stopping to check, he yelled a charge order again and charged. Around him, troopers received the order and did as they had been trained, charging forwards and readying their weapons as they approached the still-smoking and red-hot edges of the crater.

A wind blew across the base as they charged and blew the smoke away, revealing the extent of the damage.

The entire front of the base was gone, a smoking ruin that looked as though someone had taken an enormous axe and shorn away the front of the building. Small explosions and sparking cables sent flashes of light over the broken façade. Two gunships streaked overhead and flew past, their composite beam turrets flashing as they fired in staccato bursts, destroying anything that was still moving.

At the lip of the crater, Arkaan paused and waved troopers on as he checked to see where Jay had gone. Senaar appeared behind him and surprised him with a tap on the shoulder, and close behind was Jay, panting furiously from the mad dash.

Before either of them could react, a piece of rubble collapsed and Jay, his carbine already in his hands and ready, leveled it and fired, pumping a long burst at the rubble. Half a Rodian collapsed back, the disruptor pistol in his hands falling in a graceful arc from his blackened fingers.

Beneath his helmet, Jay had screamed in fright and panic-fired, but due to the sound-proofing and the fact that he still hadn't figured out how to transmit had saved him from any embarrassment. But seeing the remains of the Rodian, now dead from his hands and almost bisected from the long stream of bolts from his carbine, he watched in shock as it collapsed. It was the first time he'd even come close to killing someone, and he'd done it almost from reflex, pointing and firing without thinking and now he'd taken a life. Despite what he'd told Arkaan on the bridge, he wasn't sure if he'd been able to do it, and he'd only been able to fire because he'd merely reacted as opposed to having the time to think about it.

Arkaan had seen Jay freeze after shooting the Rodian and swore quietly under his breath. He gestured at Senaar quickly to control him before making to run on. Before he could move, he saw a fully-armoured Mandalorian female standing in front of him, her green-tinted armour familiar to him. She touched the side of his helmet almost tenderly before looking down and pointing. Arkaan followed her gaze and, understanding instantly, picked up the disruptor pistol and stuffed it into his belt. He looked up and she was gone, and he shook his head.

Small pops like firecrackers announced the arrival of the clone troopers to the base, as, per their training, they'd lobbed grenades in before storming over the ruins. Blue flashes accompanied their assault from their rifles and carbines, with units leapfrogging one another as they moved through the building. Impressed, Arkaan kept the rear as much as he could to keep out of their way and monitor their progress on a datapad built into the underside of one of his gauntlets. A few quick taps moved some units to different locations to better support the assault, but on the whole, the troopers were performing admirably and Arkaan could see how they'd gotten their reputation.

The lieutenant from before ran up to Arkaan, saluting as he ran, but this time kept his helmet on, communicating over his helmet.

"Sir, we've managed to hook up with General Hoday. He looks angry, but is taking charge and has said to support the push to clear the building as best you can."

"Alright. Tell the third wave to land on the roof and we'll meet them half-way."

The lieutenant saluted and ran off.

He spent the next two hours helping the troopers to clear the base, tossing grenades and kicking down doors as they checked each room. Resistance was minimal, but they were held up twice by two groups of super battle droids, their built-in rocket launchers creating many casualties before they were eliminated. One of the groups took four missiles from one of the rare heavy weapons troopers in the battalion to dig them out and the entire wing they'd been defending had to be cordoned off afterwards due to the extensive structural damage.

After meeting with the troops of the third wave, Arkaan made his way to the roof and sat down with his legs dangling over the precipice of broken mortar and stone-work. He released his helmet and set it beside him, placing his rifle beside it before taking a deep breath. After the hours spent breathing the filtered, stale air inside his helmet, the smoky air tasted almost sweet, despite the pollutants and stench of smoke and high explosives.

He took out a canteen from his belt and took a sip, rinsed his mouth and spat over the edge before taking several long gulps and swallowing them gratefully.

A shape thumped down next to him and he offered General Hoday the canteen. The Jedi was filthy, with his dark robes and modified armour caked in dust and grime, and his face was streaked with dried blood and dirt. He looked across at Arkaan with blood-shot eyes and took a sip before handing him back the canteen.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome. You look like _osik_."

"Like what?"

"Like…the contents of a used toilet."

"Oh. Yeah, I thought I would." He sighed and leaned back slightly, rubbing his face in his hands before looking down at the half-destroyed building beneath them. "High Command is _not_ going to be happy with you."

"Hey, I saved your _shebs_, didn't I?"

"Despite me ordering to the contrary."

Arkaan snorted and took another drink.

"General, have you actually talked to these clones about their training?"

"No, not really.

"They're pretty much hard-wired to obey the commander on the ground, and to obey the Jedi. That's you, in both cases. Did you really think they'd follow the commands of a disheveled looking advisor like me? You really don't know how this whole advisor thing works, do you?"

"Well, it's in the name, isn't it? I lead, you advise."

"That's only part of it. The rest…the rest is that I can make those hard decisions you can't and can take the blame and get away with it because I'm not officially a part of your army. You're the Jedi General in charge of this battalion, one famed for being highly trained. Now, with a hard-fought victory under their belt, they're veterans, and one with a leader who went through it with them. I don't think you fully appreciate what that does for morale, and it's time you learned."

"Are you trying to lecture me on how to lead these men?"

"Nope, just doing my job and giving you some advice. Here," he said, giving him a smaller canteen from a hidden pouch on his belt. "That's my other canteen. You can keep that one, and use it for occasions like these."

"Like what?"

"The ones you walk away from."

Arkaan dragged himself to his feet, gathered his helmet and rifle, and saluted Hoday.

"If you'll excuse me, General, I have to see a boy about a Rodian."

***

He found Jay in the cargo area, which had been turned into a make-shift mess hall on the orders of Raven. Long sheets of wood and plasteel had been combined with crates and barrels to create tables, with more crates and other debris making chairs. Jay was sat on the end of one of these tables, whilst Senaar sat at the other end, dazzling a group of clone troopers with a game involving a combat knife, the hand of one of the troopers and lightning fast reflexes.

Dumping his gear on the floor, Arkaan threw himself onto the office chair opposite Jay and pulled out the disruptor pistol and began to strip it down. They sat in silence as Arkaan stripped, cleaned and oiled it from a kit from his pack, Jay with his arms crossed on the table and staring at a spot just in front of his hands.

"Have you eaten?" asked Arkaan as he began to reassemble the pistol.

"No," came the almost bleary reply.

"You should. Four things a man needs after a battle. Food, sleep, a woman and more ammo."

Jay grunted and Arkaan rolled his eyes before snapping the barrel assembly back into place.

"I'm not going to bore you with some story about how you saved our lives and all that _osik_, even though you did. But don't dwell on it, alright? It was you or him, and this time, you came out on top. All you have to do is make sure the outcome stays the same every time you get into that situation."

"Yeah."

Arkaan sighed and put the disruptor pistol and its power-pack down on the table in front of him. He reached forward and slapped Jay across the face, hard. The younger man blinked and stared, whilst those around them did their best to ignore them, knowing looks on their faces.

"You listening?" said Arkaan, staring intently into his eyes.

"Yes, sorry. I just…"

"You just never killed someone before. Well, now you have. Welcome to the club. I guess I'd best start calling you _vod_ now, eh?"

"Fod?"

"_Vod_. It means brother, or comrade."

"Oh." Jay's head moved slightly in a nod and Arkaan knew he was finally getting through. In satisfaction, he slapped the power-pack in, eased on the safety and dropped it into the hollow between Jay's arms and body.

"Here," he said. "I think you earned this."

"Is that-" began Jay, recognition dawning on his face.

"Yep. Now, go get some chow before I order them to throw it at you. Go on."

Jay picked up the pistol, nodded hesitantly at Arkaan and got up, holding the pistol gingerly in one hand as he went towards the tented kitchen area.

"You're getting better at that."

"_Usen'ye_. Please."

"I'm only trying to help, _cyar'ika_."

"Well don't. Why the hell did you tell me to take him with me, anyway?"

Arkaan looked up to see the armoured female from before, this time minus her helmet. She was in Jay's seat and was leaning on her hands which were crossed over her helmet in front of her. She stared into his eyes with her own, a cheeky grin beginning to spread on them.

"You'll find out soon enough. Don't worry, you won't regret it."

"I'm already beginning to."

"Who're you talking to?"

Arkaan jerked his head to one side to see Senaar looking at him, her silver head tilted to one side.

"Myself. I do that from time-to-time. Makes living with you easier."

"Oh, you wound me!"

"Shut up and get me a sandwich."

"Anything for you, oh fearless leader."

"_Mir'sheb_."


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Several hours later found Arkaan waiting outside the hastily repaired comm centre of the base, which was remarkably undamaged considering the amount of blaster bolts and grenades that had been loosed into the room. A few consoles, fuses and encryption units had been replaced, but the room was still missing a door, so four guards had cordoned off the entire corridor, and had initially refused to let Arkaan pass, until Jay, still in his black clone armour, had explained who he was. Senaar had already been dismissed, under protest, back to the ship back in orbit, and Raven and the Wookiee had disappeared to get the troops marshaled and getting the defences back to some semblance of order.

Despite the best effort of the guards, the corridor was still echoing to the reprimand Hoday was getting, and Arkaan was doing his best to suppress a grin. Beside him, Jay was doing the same, but masking his amusement by fiddling with the disruptor pistol. Neither of them had their helmets with them, meaning they couldn't hide it the easy way.

As he watched, it dawned on Arkaan what Jay was doing, and he leaned in towards.

"You do realise disruptors are illegal throughout the Republic?" he whispered.

"Really?"

"Yep. So I'd tuck that away if I were you and not use it unless you really have to."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

The yelling died down a little, and Hoday stuck his head out of the blown-out doorway.

"Get in here, Arkaan! Bring the kid too."

Rolling his eyes, Arkaan pulled himself off the wall he was leaning on and took Jay by the arm, leading him into the comm centre.

The middle of the room was dominated by a large tactical holo-projector, with wires spreading out from it in all directions, frayed pieces of tape securing the wiring to the floor. Three clone troopers, all of them with helmets on the floor beside them, were working on consoles off to one side, two of them occasionally leaning across to each other and giving status updates as they kept the air-waves organized. A hooded figure was seated on a folding chair, hands in their lap whilst Hoday perched on the edge of the holo-projector, which was currently projecting an aerial view of the base, possibly taken from one of the vessels orbiting the planet, and, to one side, a symbol of the Republic slowly rotated in mid-air as it stood by on hold, the scrolling numbers and text beneath it telling Arkaan it was still connected at the other end.

Jay, quickly tucking the pistol into his belt and covering it with his tunic, took a spare seat beside the door and began examining the view on the holo-projector as Arkaan stood with his arms folded in front of Hoday. Rough stubble was already appearing on the Jedi's chin, and he stroked it idly as he began to talk.

"Just like I thought, they're not happy about the state we left the base in, but they're at least happy that it's still usable. They're already sending reinforcements, should be here within forty-eight hours, and they're including some engineers, to get this place cleaned up."

"What're the final casualty numbers?" asked Arkaan.

"Twenty-five percent casualties, with a quarter of that dead, another quarter won't fight again, and the others will be back on the front-line in a few weeks at the most. So all-in-all, not bad for our first major battle, but more than I was really hoping for."

"Anyone who doesn't plan for casualties in a battle is an over-confident _di'kut_. But, yes, a good result, considering what we were facing. The reputation of the 78th is well deserved."

"As is your own, which brings me on to our guest here. It's felt that, due to your actions today in disobeying an order and causing the unnecessary destruction of essential war assets, you need to be chaperoned. The only reason you haven't been kicked off the planet is because you saved my life, or, as they put it, aiding the release of a high-ranking VIP from an extremely volatile situation."

Arkaan glanced across at the hooded figure and frowned.

"Look," said Hoday quietly. "I fought your corner, but they wouldn't have it, and she was already here by the time I made contact with them. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I was kind of expecting something like this. But, they look like a Jedi."

"They are. Noa Arkaan, meet General Marcla," he began, but he found himself being cut off by the hooded figure.

"Oh, we've met, General Hoday," she said, rising and removing her robe and smiling at Arkaan. "It's alright, Colonel Arkaan, I requested this assignment. We couldn't have you saddled with some anonymous stranger you didn't know, now, could we?"

"I've met you once, _jetii_, and not because I wanted to, either. Why is the GAR wasting Jedi on chaperoning an advisor? Why not just saddle me with some clone officer?"

"Because there are very few of those clones headstrong and independent enough to deal with someone like you, and you're not even supposed to know they exist, so forget I said that."

"Wait," said Hoday, frowning at Marcla. "There are other types of clone out there?"

"Of course," she replied, smirking. "We have commandos and super-commandos, as well as the standard troopers and other battlefield specialists."

"There are no super-commandos outside of the Mandalorians," said Arkaan tightly, glaring at the small Arkanian.

"Who do you think trained them?" she said, that smirk still on her lips.

"If you two have quite stopped arguing, I have duties I need to be attending to." Hoday turned back to the projector and tapped a few keys, re-opening the link between High Command, and the revolving Republic sigil disappeared to be replaced with an angry-looking Twi'lek in Jedi robes.

Before either of them could begin to speak, the view point flickered, and the head and shoulders of the other Jedi disappeared. The aerial view began to flicker and distort too, and two of the clones began to frantically work at their consoles. Hoday looked around in confusion, and the others in the room gathered around behind him.

"Contact!" called out the third clone. "Multiple vessels just dropped out of hyperspace. No response to automatic hails. They read like Separatist vessels, sir."

"How many?"

"Four capital-class vessels, eight frigate-class and another five unknowns."

"They're firing on the Iron Fist, sir!" called out one of the clones manning the comm consoles.

"Put me through to Captain Pell."

The head of shoulders of the captain appeared on the holo-projector in front of Hoday.

"General?"

"What's your assessment, Captain?"

"We need to retreat, sir. Three Acclamators can't hold up in an engagement with four enemy capital ships, especially not when they have support vessels. I can hold them off for a while, but not long enough for a full-scale evacuation. I'm sorry, sir, but until those reinforcements arrive, there's not much I can do."

"I understand, Captain. Jump out of the system, and see if you can't link up with the incoming fleet when it arrives. May the Force be with you."

The captain saluted and disappeared.

"How the hell did they know we'd taken the base? We've only had it for a few hours, there's no way they could have put together a fleet that size in time." Hoday buried his head in his hands.

"This was a staging area, General," said Arkaan quietly. "I get the feeling Intel dropped the ball, and they hadn't finished collecting the troops. This is most likely another supply convoy, full of troops and materiel for their attack. We need to hunker down and prepare for the worst. Make sure the troops know to conserve ammunition, rations and water. It's going to be a rough couple of days."

"Sir, the _Iron Fist_ just jumped out of the system. Two of their frigates are down, but the rest are settling into geosynchronous orbit above the base."

"Orbital bombardment?"

"Most likely."

"Where are the plans for these buildings?" asked Marcla, removing her cloak completely and dropping it to the floor, revealing a dark tunic, in complete contrast to her alabaster complexion.

"On screen, General."

The flickering aerial view had disappeared several minutes before, and the dark screen lit up again, this time with a revolving 3D view of the base. The destroyed parts were highlighted in red, and the labels were all in a strange alphabet, unrecognizable to all in the room. Arkaan, Hoday and Marcla gathered around the projector, whilst Jay sat down beside the clone with the sensor console, watching over his shoulder as the various blips and dots moved on the screen.

"Are those basements?" said Hoday, indicating a large complex of rooms several levels below the room they were in, which was highlighted in yellow.

"Yes, sir," replied one of the clones, half-turning in his seat with a datapad in his hands, plugged in to the console he was in front of. "From the translations we've so far managed to decipher, it appears there's a reinforced series of rooms beneath the base, supposedly to be used as a command and control suite in case of attack."

"Get everyone you can down there, right now, and start transferring all the materiel you can. Prioritise the ammo, water and food. First squads down there are to set up a defense and man it immediately, and any man not carrying supplies is to have his rations taken off him and his whole squad to stay behind. Put the word out."

Hoday spent the next few minutes barking out orders to the two clones on the comm consoles, and as the orders began to fly out, more clones began to arrive, moving supplies and carrying orders and status updates. The other three used this confusion to slip out, noticing the guards had disappeared.

As they walked, Jay nervously attracted Marcla's attention, waving at her with one hands, since the other held her cloak, having picked it up before they'd left.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Jay. I think you forgot this."

"Ah, yes, so I did." She took the cloak, smiling at him before turning her attention back to where they were going.

They made their way up and out of the complex, stopping by the mess hall to collect their helmets and weapons. Along the way, they were joined by the Wookiee who growled something at Marcla. She merely smiled at him before pulling her lightsabre off her belt and hefting it as they ran.

On the roof, the clean-up effort had been abandoned, so the wrecked husks of battle droids still littered the flat expanse, and only two of the auto-turrets on the edge of the landing pads had been repaired, whilst the rest sat there smoking and sparking. A few clone troopers in the heavier armour and helmet of engineers were hastily packing up boxes and a pair of heavy guns from where they had been set up on the edge of the roof, and beside them, Raven, his helmet off, noticed the new arrivals and left an open box of grenades he'd been busy packing to join them.

"Is it true?" he asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"'_Lek_," replied Arkaan. "Got about a dozen ships up there, full of troops. It's going to be bad."

"Don't need to tell me, _vod_. What's she doing here?" Raven indicated Marcla with his chin.

"_General_ Marcla is my brand-new chaperone. Apparently, destroying half a building to rescue a Jedi General makes me a naughty boy, so this is my punishment."

Raven fell about laughing and patted Marcla on the back in sympathy.

"Alright, alright, can it, _mir'sheb_. Let's get this roof cleared. What do you need, Harl?"

"We just need some of the bigger stuff moved. Wook, give those engineers a hand with those heavy repeaters, the rest of you, find a box, pack it with any ordnance you can find and get it downstairs."

The four moved to obey, and Raven went back to packing his box of grenades, clipping it shut and hefting it with one hand before dragging it over to a small pile of other boxes.

A few seconds after they began, a few low booms echoed across the sky above them, and all movement ceased as all eyes turned sky-wards. The low clouds of earlier had all but disappeared, with just a few wispy threads remaining. Out of one of these wisps, a pair of vulture droids appeared, screaming down towards the base. Their wings began to flash, and blaster-fire lanced in towards them, impacting on the ground before the base and stitching their way up the half-destroyed wall towards the occupants of the roof.

"Incoming!" screamed Arkaan, and the group scattered, the clones and Mandalorians throwing themselves behind what cover they could find.

A snap-hiss caught Arkaan and Jay's attention and they watched in amazement as Marcla leaped onto of one of the landing pads, the bright, silver blade of her lightsabre sweeping up in front of her into a ready position.

"She isn't," began Arkaan incredulously.

"She is, she kriffing is!" gasped Jay.

The enormous red bolts flashed down towards the diminutive Jedi, and her lightsabre swung in large, impossible arcs and batted several of the bolts away, throwing two back towards the incoming fighters and the rest away from the roof. The two return bolts missed, but one of the droids exploded, raining shrapnel down to the field they'd charged across mere hours ago.

From the same cloud, a pair of gunships appeared, composite beams flashing from the front gunship, burning long lines along the roof as they missed. One of the engineers stood and began waving frantically in an attempt to stop them firing. The second gunship loosed a rocket, and the missile puffed slightly before accelerating toward the remaining vulture droid, closing the distance fast.

All three craft flashed by overhead, and Raven jumped up without waiting to see the fate of the second vulture droid.

"Clear the roof! Grab a box and let's move!"

The engineers immediately picked up a box of power-packs each, with two of them picking up a pair of heavy power packs for the emplaced weapons. The Wookiee threw two of the heavy guns over his shoulders, one on each shoulder, holding them by the barrels, and the whole group ran full-pelt towards the stairs. Arkaan, Raven and Jay picked up two ammo boxes each, whilst Marcla extended a hand, her still-lit lightsabre in the other, and the pile of grenade boxes floated in front of her as they ran after the engineers.

Behind them, the sky lit up red and the wispy cloud disappeared as, for the second time that day, turbolaser blasts pierced the atmosphere and began destroying everything they touched in massive explosions.

Inside the base, the fast yet orderly retreat into the basement turned to absolute chaos as the buildings began to shake with the shockwaves of the bombardment. Clones were running everywhere they looked, not one of them with empty hands, and dust was beginning to sprinkle from the ceiling with every booming report. Each explosion was louder and closer than the last, until Arkaan began to wonder why the building wasn't collapsing around him already.

Abruptly, silence fell over the base, and Arkaan stopped suspiciously. The group was only a level above the entrance to the reinforced command suite, and the stairs descending down before them were already crammed with running clones, but were already two levels below ground. He looked up at the ceiling and blink-clicked a comm channel open to Hoday.

"Mando One to Command. What's going on? Why have they stopped?"

"Mando One, hold for Actual."

A few seconds later, Hoday's voice came over the comm.

"Arkaan? They were bracketing us, not sure why, but they've pulverized the area surrounding the base. We're picking up multiple signals incoming to our location, so we think we have troops incoming."

"We saw some gunships earlier whilst on the roof, what happened to those?"

"_Iron Fist_ wasn't able to get all them back on board in time, so eight of them volunteered to give us as much cover as possible. We've already lost three, the others have begun to harass the incoming transports. They don't appear to be heavily armed, so they may be able to thin their ranks considerably before they get here. Wait a second…okay, we lost another gunship. They're saturating the airspace with vulture droids. Get down here, Arkaan, I could use you and Raven."

"On our way. Out."

Arkaan turned back to the stairs and hurried past a pair of engineers wiring the staircase with explosives. Down the stairs was a long corridor, with a fortified position set up just outside the door. Sandbags and empty ammo crates formed a pair of firing positions, already manned by troopers training rifles down the corridor. Behind one of the positions, the Wookiee was setting down one of the heavy blasters onto tripod already set up by the engineers from the roof. Behind them, Raven, Jay and Marcla were depositing their loads into already organized piles, and Arkaan joined them, dropping his boxes onto the growing pile of ammunition before moving through the heaving mass of white armour towards the inner areas, where Hoday had set up his command post.

Having left the enormous holo-projector back in the comm-centre upstairs, Hoday and the five clones surrounding him were in turn surrounded by more empty crates and chairs, upon which were piled smaller, individual holo-projectors and datapads, all wired together and going through a boxy processing unit set in the corner of the room. The consoles lining the walls of the room were all dark, and a pair of white armoured butts were visible from behind two of them.

Seeing Arkaan, Hoday gestured for him to come closer, and dismissed the helmet-less clones surrounding him. All five replaced their helmets and moved away, sliding datapads back into pouches on their belts and retrieving their carbines from where they were leaning against the wall.

Hoday opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by an enormous explosion, which was quickly followed by others, all running together into one non-stop shockwave. Every person in the basement area was thrown from their feet, and the constant shaking threw dust everywhere. Several of the boxes fell from their respective piles, some of them breaking open, spilling their contents onto the floor and over the bodies of the closest clone troopers. Enormous cracks appeared in the ceiling, even bowing down dangerously in one place. Dust and debris rained down from the cracks, and a thick cloud appeared from the door leading up to the base.

The explosions ceased after a minutes, leaving an eerie silence filled only by the creak of stressed stonework and distant secondary explosions. Arkaan lifted his head from his position on the floor and looked around. Marcla was the first one up, her lightsabre somehow returned to her belt, and she immediately set about returning the spilled ordnance to their boxes. Clones began pulling each other to their feet, including a couple that pulled Jay up. Beside him, Raven still had his hands clamped over his ears, blinking fiercely as he raised himself up into a sitting position.

"Left my damn _buy'ce_ on the roof," he grumbled and Arkaan barked out a short laugh.

"Can you take charge of the defence of the door?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Get someone up to check on the dets on the stairwell too," said Hoday from behind them, handing Raven a comm headset. "Here, take this as well, keep in contact."

Raven threw a mock salute and ran off, settling the headset over his ear and cheek as he went. Hoday pulled a few more clones to their feet before taking Arkaan's arm and guiding him into the command room. Unsure of where he should be, Jay followed him, taking his helmet off and tucking it under his arm.

"What's going on?" asked Arkaan, indicating the unused consoles. "Why isn't this room up and running?"

"We don't know. I've got some engineers working on it, so hopefully it shouldn't be too long now. But, look, I did some digging when I got down here, and this has been here for a hundred and fifty years. The base itself above us has been redone since then, but we're still talking a good fifty, sixty years ago. This place is old. Those explosions were probably the buildings coming down on top of us. The only reason we're still alive is because this place was designed and built to take it, but they weren't built to take the newer base collapsing. We can hold out here, but I don't know for how long. There are toilet facilities, and some sleeping areas, but I've got just over three hundred soldiers crammed into a space built for considerably less than that. Now, the good news. We have a battalion's worth of rations and ammunition, so the forty-eight hours we need to hold shouldn't be a problem, provided we can actually hold the droids back."

"How many entrances to this place?"

"Two. The one you came in over there and a larger one through there. I've had the men set up traps and fall-back positions both inside and outside the doors leading in, and we're still setting up supply caches and chains to keep them supplied during the fighting."

"Look, Jaro," said Arkaan, looking around and pulling Hoday off to one side, out of earshot of the closest troopers. "Forty-eight hours is how long the fleet will take to get here. I can tell you right now, we're going to have to wait longer than that. Hopefully it'll only be a few more hours so it shouldn't be too hard, but you have no idea how long it'll take the fleet to clear the enemy fleet from the system, and then how long it'll take for them to get to us. You're planning for a fight, and that's what you should be doing, but if the building really has come down on top of us, it could take days to dig us out of the rubble, never mind how long it will take to fight their way through any troops that have been landed. You need to start rationing right the _shab_ now, with the priority on food and water. Rotate the squads manning the prepared positions as well, to keep them sharp, and enforce discipline immediately and without mercy. Men can quickly go rotten when in positions like this, so don't get complacent. Your life, and the lives of those around you, depend on it."

"Alright."

Hoday swallowed and rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other resting on his hip. Arkaan slid his helmet off and set it on top of a stack of ammo boxes.

"They should never have put you Jedi in charge of this war," he said quietly. "You're just not prepared for it."

Hoday frowned, and opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a shout from one of the engineers buried underneath one of the still-dark consoles. They both turned to see the whole room light up as it came to life, and from beneath a console, a clone engineer appeared, his helmet off and his face streaked with oil and a grin plastered across it. Behind him, Jay crawled out, his expensive datapad in his hands and a long wire trailing from behind it. He tapped it a few times with an ungloved finger, and some of the consoles went dark again, whilst others began flickering as they ran through their boot-up procedure.

The other engineer crawled out from another console, surprise on his face, but he joined Jay and his colleague in manning the consoles, running some tests whilst other clones rushed to fill the positions. As they worked, the make-shift command centre began to shut down, and one of the previous engineers began to unplug the datapads and projectors, returning the various parts to their previous owners.

Hoday looked at Arkaan and raised a finger, pointing it in his face.

"We'll continue this later. Report!" He turned back to the now-alive command centre and clones began calling in status reports.

Finding Jay beside him, Arkaan picked up his helmet and moved off, the younger man at his side.

"I guess that 'pad came in useful after all."

"Yes, they'd replaced some of the burnt out parts, but couldn't figure out how to initiate the reboot, so I-"

"Save it, Jay. I wouldn't understand anyway. Where's your bucket?"

"My what?"

"Your _buy'ce_, your helmet."

"Oh, I left it in there."

"Leave it. Go and find Marcla, tell her I'm going to get some sleep, then you find a bunk and do the same. We may as well get some sleep whilst we can."

Jay hesitantly threw a salute and ran off. Arkaan laughed all the way to the bunks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

_It took the droids a mere nine hours to dig their way through to us. I have no doubt that, had they been flesh and blood, it would have taken a lot longer, perhaps double that, but their tireless, machine-like ways lent them an unnatural speed and strength, and the constant noises, creaks, trickles of dust and distant rumbles brought them ever closer to our door. _

_And yet, during this most trying of times, a time when every noise meant that danger and, indeed, certain death, was no more than a heartbeat away, never once did the morale of the men slip. Perhaps, some would argue, these were not men at all; rather some facsimile of man, manufactured in the water-bound laboratories of a planet I have come to know as Kamino. And, indeed, not even of a race that would call themselves man – rather, the label of Mandalorian, the very same as that of my companion and mentor, Noa Arkaan, a man of many odd layers, none of which I have so far been able to fathom. _

_But to those who would say such things, I would say to them to talk not of such matters of which they obviously have no experience nor heart. Grown in vats as these men may be, for they are men in every sense of the word, they possess a strength of character the likes of which are relatively unseen amongst the hallowed halls of those in power, and is a quality that, perhaps, we need in said halls. Whilst it must never slip the mind that these men are trained to obey and kill, they have such a sense of __honour__, duty and camaraderie that they cannot be faulted. _

_I would be remiss, however, to mention those amongst us who do not share the same genetic make-up, like the enigmatic Jedi, Marcla, who has spent the time meditating and soothing those injured troopers that had made it down here, or the Jedi General Hoday, whose tireless ministrations to his men are praise-worthy in the extreme. Or Arkaan himself, who, when he is not sleeping, is performing spot checks and joking with the men as he makes his rounds, and the so-far nameless Wookiee, whose tricks with a blade never cease to amaze, or the other Mandalorian, Raven, who is currently leading a group of men in a strange dance involving a sung chant and striking the man next to you in a ritualistic manner. _

"It's called _Dha Werda Verda_."

Jay looked up from writing on his datapad to see Arkaan standing over him, reading what he'd just written, and his cheeks began to flush red in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry?" he asked quietly.

"The strange dance. It's called _Dha Werda Verda_. It's an ancient war chant, usually sung before going into battle. Raven's teaching them how to do it properly."

"Why?"

"They may be fighting for the Republic, but under the armour, they're Mandalorians by blood, so it's only right they be taught the ways of their ancestors. Plus, that hammering isn't just some bored prospector digging a well. There's going to be fighting soon, and hard fighting too, so it's an appropriate time to do it, too. I might join in. Watch what they're doing, I'll be teaching it to you some day."

Jay swallowed quietly as Arkaan walked over towards the small crowd watching Raven and his pupils. One of the clones, wearing the red armour of a captain, turned to Arkaan, his helmet in one hand, and caught Arkaan's eye.

"You know how to do this, sir?" said the captain, indicating the _Dha Werda Verda_.

"All Mandalorians do. We're taught it at an early age."

"Can you teach me to do that?"

"If you want. Why don't you join in?"

"I don't want to interrupt them, and I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Don't you worry, _vod_."

Before he could continue, a shout caught their attention from the larger of the two entrances, at the opposite end of the complex of rooms from the entrance Arkaan and Jay had used. The helmet-less group surrounding Raven replaced their helmets and rushed after Arkaan as he led them towards the entrenched positions.

"Report," ordered Arkaan, his eyes fixed on the half-collapsed stairs at the end of the corridor.

"Movement, sir. It looks like the droids are nearly through the rubble. Shall I ready the explosives?"

"Do it."

The trooper nodded and quickly dropped his carbine and picked up the small control panel for the det-packs set up on the stairwell. Arkaan, missing his helmet, turned to the captain behind him.

"Take charge here, captain, I need to find General Hoday and my helmet."

The captain saluted and immediately began barking out orders, getting the troops around the position organized. Arkaan, meanwhile, was already moving, motioning Jay to fall in, and the younger man scrambled to put his 'pad away and grab his helmet and carbine.

They found the command centre empty, but, spotting a commotion by the other entrance, they pushed through the crowd of white armour until Hoday came into view.

"We've got movement at the other entrance," he said quietly. "There could be a break-through at any minute."

"Yes, it's the same here. I've got the explosives ready, but I'm only going to blow it when we actually see hostiles. I suggest you do the same at the other entrance."

"Where do you want us advisors?"

"Take Jay and Marcla and cover the other entrance. I've already got the Wookiee here, but I'd appreciate it if Raven could join me here too."

"Alright. Good hunting, General."

"You too, Colonel."

They backed out the space, dodging clone troopers already taking up position behind the barricades. Arkaan sent Jay on ahead to get Raven and to get into position at the other entrance, whilst he retrieved his helmet from where he'd been sleeping.

Beside the dark purple helmet, he found a pair of clone troops dozing, one using his helmet as a make-shift pillow and the other with his arms wrapped around his rifle. He grinned to himself and let them be, quietly moving out of the bunk area and moving quickly back to where Jay was.

Pausing only to slide the helmet on his head, he squirmed his way towards the front of barricade, eventually joining the red-trimmed captain and Jay. Ahead, there was definite movement amongst the rubble blocking the stair-case. Trickles of dust cascaded from the slowly moving rocks, and every eye flicked immediately the source of each downpour, searching for any signs of moving metal.

"As soon as you see light, blow it," said Arkaan to the clone in charge of the det packs.

A few long, agonising minutes passed with no sign of battle droids, whilst the rubble continued to move. Amongst the defenders, very few of them moved, training and, in some cases, experience overriding natural inclinations to move. Being the exception, Jay found himself shifting as the inactivity began to play on his joints and he moved to keep his muscles from cramping.

Seeing the movement, Arkaan grinned beneath his helmet and opened a private channel to him.

"Jay, this is something you're going to have to get used to. War is ninety percent boredom, nine percent hilarity and one percent sheer terror."

"Oh. Thanks. I think."

Arkaan cut the link so he could laugh to himself in private, before re-opening it.

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure you're ready if need be."

A muffled explosion announced the detonation of the explosives at the other entrance, and Arkaan closed the link, opening his external speakers.

"Steady, _vode_. Any minute now, just be ready in case those explosives fail. Volley fire, on my command."

As they watched, a shaft of dusty light appeared, before rapidly disappearing and reappearing four times in quick succession. Beside Arkaan, the trooper with the det panel tightened his grip on it, raising it slightly in preparation.

Electronic sounds echoed down the corridor and the light reappeared, larger this time, and grew until it became large enough for a beige, three-fingered hand to be thrust through, some sort of device in its hands.

"Blow it!"

As soon as the first word was out of his mouth, the trooper stabbed his thumb down on the detonate button and the corridor disappeared in a cloud of smoke and dust. The explosion deafened everyone at the barricade for a few seconds, leaving a ringing in their ears which wouldn't fade until days later.

The echoes of the explosion began to fade, but the tunnel stayed impenetrable to their eyes, with no wind to clear the dust. Arkaan motioned for the troopers to remain and jumped over the barricade, his rifle raised and ready.

A short way down the tunnel, he found it blocked by more rubble, and from his estimation, the explosives had leveled the remnants of the stairs, shortening the tunnel by a couple of metres. It wouldn't hold for long, but they'd bought themselves some more time.

It would have to do.

Back at the barricades, he relayed his thoughts to Hoday via a private comm channel, and they both agreed to maintain the vigil, but to rotate the troops every fifteen minutes, to keep them fresh.

"I think it's bought us an hour, two at the most," said Arkaan.

"I agree. Look, I'm splitting us in two. You take half of the men, and I've put Raven in charge of the others. I may be the General, but in name only. I have no idea what I'm doing, so I'm leaving it up to you two. Two independent commands, each with experienced commanders would do better than one group divided with one inexperienced commander."

"If that's what you want."

"You're our best hope for survival, and you know it. Just…well, may the Force be with you, Noa."

"_Oya_, General. Good hunting."

Arkaan cut the link and looked up to find Marcla sat cross-legged in front of him. He'd retreated from the barricades to the storage area to talk to Hoday over the comm, and, as ever, Jay had followed, and was now sitting quietly in the corner, adding to his journal.

"I should relieve you of command, you know," said the Arkanian, slipping a comm headset off and switching it off.

"But you won't."

"No. I have the choice of either doing as ordered or disobeying and possibly saving the lives of these men."

"Don't be so _shab'la_ dramatic. You and your lightsabre will come in handy in these tunnels, so just be ready when we need you."

Marcla grinned and nodded, rising in one smooth motion before walking towards Jay. Arkaan shook his head and stood as well, walking out of the storage area to find the clone captain standing before him. Arkaan pulled him off to one side.

"The General has seen fit to divide us into two separate forces, each under the command of one of the advisors. In our case, that's me. I want you to liaise with someone from the other entrance to divide the supplies, straight down the middle. Have you determined fall-back positions?"

"Yes sir. Every few metres back down this corridor I've set up some barricades, with a box of grenades and power packs at each barricade."

"Good. Also, you're not issued with bayonets, are you?"

"Bayonets? No sir. Some of us have some knives as trophies or gifts, but not many."

"Alright. Do what you can to make some. Set some men to find anything that might do and get them to sharpen them as much as possible. I get the feeling we're going to need them."

"Yes sir."

The captain saluted and Arkaan put his hands on his hips, standing in silence for a few moments.

This was going to be really bad.

***

The tunnel in front of Jay disappeared in a flash of light, sparks and dust. Through the murk, he could just make out the enormous lasers the droids were using to cut their way down, giving an eerie red backlight to the clouds of dirt obscuring their vision.

"Volley fire on my command only!" came the voice of Arkaan, resonating through the inside of his helmet.

Jay steadied his carbine, keeping the barrel pointed down the tunnel. He was crouched next to Arkaan, the clone captain and a pair of engineers, one of them armed with a variant of the DC15 rifle that fired a scatter-shot of blasts, which would be useful in the coming fight. Glancing down, he could see the butt of the knife that Arkaan had given him. He'd said it was a spare, and would probably come in handy, but what good it would do against armoured droids remained to be seen.

The barricade in front of him abruptly puffed up in a mini explosion, sending shards of stone into Jay's chest. He watched in shock as several more blaster bolts came flying out of the gloom. Even with the enhanced vision of the helmet, visibility was still down to a minimum.

"Fire!"

The carbine bucked in Jay's hand, surprising him. The tunnel disappeared in a flash of blue light for a few split seconds, each clone behind the barricade firing a single shot. Impacts were heard from down the other end of the tunnel, but Jay couldn't tell what they were hitting, if they'd hit at all.

"Fire!"

Once again, the tunnel lit up with the reports of blue blaster bolts and Jay's helmet struggled to keep the staccato flashes from blinding him. Return fire began to come in, flashing in single shots, bur rapidly increasing until Jay had to take cover.

"Grenades!"

Several small, shiny, spherical objects flew past Jay's head, and out of instinct, he pulled his head down and wrapped his hands around the matte black helmet. Several seconds later, the grenades went off with a crump, and the opposite side of the barricade was peppered with shrapnel.

A glint of metal caught his eye, and he watched in shock as an enormous barrel-chested battle droid bore down on Jay, its arm extended and spitted fire. He dimly heard Arkaan calling out another order, and it was hit by several dozen blue blasts, throwing it backwards and punching black holes in the silver armour.

For the next few minutes, the murky air of the tunnel was filled with red and blue blaster fire, flying past each other and wreaking destruction wherever they touched. Dull crumping sounds coincided with bright flashes, throwing odd shadows into the dusty air.

Arkaan grabbed Jay's shoulder and Jay stared at him for a few seconds before realising, and he snatched up his carbine and began firing randomly down the tunnel.

A hissing sound caught his attention, and he watched in horror as a rocket flew towards him. Time slowed as it sped towards him, the bright red tail of flame behind it making it seem as though a demonic force was heading his way, bent of absolute destruction. Suddenly, he found himself being thrown to one side, and his view of the rocket was replaced by one a white helmet with a red stripe running over the dome.

The rocket hit the barricade full on and exploded, utterly destroying it and throwing bodies into the air. Jay and the clone captain were slammed into the wall and Arkaan was catapulted back through the door they were defending. Raising his head, he watched from the floor as a heavy repeater began firing, spitting a veritable wall of fire, feeling it thrum deep inside his chest. He shook his head and hauled himself up, just in time to see a battle droid launch itself through the door. Stitched with blaster fire, it was thrown aside by the larger droid behind it, who raised its arm and blasted the clone manning the heavy repeater.

Arkaan threw himself up, his knife in his hands and buried it in the armour of the super battle droid, using it as a handhold to pull himself on top of the droid. Straddling it, he pulled out the knife and stabbed it down again, plunging it into a glowing red photoreceptor and pulling, dragging it along what he thought was the head of the thing. Sparks erupted around his hands, and the droid bucked beneath him, jerking slightly before collapsing onto its knees. Arkaan stabbed the other eye and punched the pommel of the knife, burying it in the head and the droid abruptly went limp. It fell completely over, thumping loudly onto the floor and throwing Arkaan off, his knife still buried in the smoking remains of the upper body.

Leaping over his prostate body, Marcla ignited her lightsabre and sliced two battle droids in half in one smooth motion, the silver blade passing effortlessly through their skeletal beige bodies. She span, whirling the saber around and bisecting another three droids, and an extended arm threw a super battle droid back through the door.

Using the time Marcla had bought him, Arkaan wrenched his knife free and grabbed the heavy repeater, ripping it off its mount and swinging it around.

"Down!" he yelled, and every organic in the room hit the deck, Marcla taking down another droid as she fell.

Arkaan squeezed the trigger and fired the repeater from the hip, sweeping fire across the doorway, firing indiscriminately into the crowd, blowing limbs and heads off droid bodies and throwing others backwards from the kinetic force of the blaster bolts. He began advancing slowly, the trigger held down, blasting anything that stood in his way. The barrel began to glow red, burning his hand through the gloves he wore, but he kept firing, driving the droids back.

Somehow, the air had cleared a little in the tunnel, and Arkaan could see the droids pouring through the rectangular hole that had been cut through the rubble. Dozens were coming through every few seconds, and Arkaan knew they wouldn't hold for long under the onslaught.

Unable to hold it any more, Arkaan dropped the repeater, clutching his hand and Marcla immediately jumped up, leaping forwards and slashing left and right. Her lightsabre wove a glowing tapestry of light, her every move like a complex and deadly dance. Somehow, she held them back, droid bodies flying left and right and collapsing into pieces around her.

The troopers around them had rallied, getting to their feet and readying their weapons. With a few quick hand motions, Arkaan got them into position around him, even dragging Jay into place beside him, ignoring how shaky the young man was on his feet and roughly making him ready.

He knew the only way to break a charge was superior firepower and a counter-charge. With Marcla providing the cover to allow them to get into position, there was only one thing for them to do.

"Ready! Make ready! Charge!"

As one, the group rushed forward, only three abreast in the confines of the tunnel, but filling it entirely with troops. The trooper beside Arkaan dropped, his face a smoking ruin, and another blaster bolt bounced painfully off Arkaan's shoulder armour. Before either could register, the two lines met and crashed into each other and it descended into a mess of swinging weapons and limbs. Arkaan fought desperately, noticing that Marcla had deactivated her lightsabre, the close confines being too close to safely use it. Instead, she was striking left and right, using the Force to bolster her actions, sometimes punching clean through bodies and pulling parts off of others.

Another super battle droid loomed over him, and Arkaan lost himself, giving himself over entirely to instinct as he fought to survive.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Jay awoke to the faint sounds of machinery working quietly beside him. He cracked an eye open and stared at the pristine white ceiling, confusion furrowing his brow. The last ceiling he'd seen had been a dirty off-grey, with deep cracks running through it, and the last sounds had been ones of battle. The change in scenery threw him completely, and he struggled to sit up before a hand pushed him back down.

"Try not to move, _vod_, you took a fair old beating."

He turned his head and saw Arkaan through gummed up eyes sitting on a chair beside the bed. Behind him, the room was filled with bunks, each one with an injured clone trooper, with medical equipment hooked up to each of the occupants. Some were more injured than others, with several missing limbs, and others still with no physical sign of injury. Arkaan himself had a long white tunic on, with a green dressing gown on over it, and have a few red scratches on his face, along with an already healing black eye.

"Where am I?" mumbled Jay, the words running together in a jumbled mix.

"You're in a med centre on Corellia."

"How…?"

Jay concentrated, trying to remember the last thing that had happened to him. After being throw around by the rocket, Jay had recovered in time to take part in the charge, which had beaten back the attack by the droids and bought themselves another few hours respite. They'd taken heavy casualties, but had managed to rebuild the barricades in time for a second attack. Another charge had been repulsed with superior firepower and a few neat tricks from Marcla, but the third had almost overrun them, with another counter-charge from Arkaan barely holding them back. Jay had been right behind the Mandalorian during the charge, and the last thing he remembered seeing after being knocked down by a stray blaster bolt was a super battle droid looming over him.

"The _Iron Fist_ jumped back early and managed to hold off the enemy fleet long enough to launch their entire complement of gunships. All three vessels will need months in dry dock before they'll be allowed back into service, but they did enough damage to drive the fleet away. Pell thinks the captains must've been Neimoidian, well-known for being cowards. Lucky for us, unlucky for them. Anyway, you lay back and get some rest. You'll need it."

Something in Arkaan's eyes made Jay suspicious, and he leaned over, making to grab Arkaan's arm with his left hand. To his surprise, nothing happened, and, confused, Jay turned his head.

"Jay," began Arkaan, but he didn't hear.

One whole side of Jay's chest was swathed bandages and bacta-presses, and in place of his arm was a mass of tubes and machinery, sealing what was obviously still a raw and open wound.

"What? My arm! How?" Jay demanded, shock and anger vying for supremacy in his voice and on his face.

"It got torn off by that last SBD. We tried to save it, and we retrieved it after, but they couldn't reattach it. I…I'm sorry."

Jay tried to rotate his arm, an action he'd been able to do in his sleep before, but now, now the construct around what he thought to be a stump merely swiveled as his muscles moved a now non-existent limb. Almost unconsciously, he made a fist, or at least tried, but, like before, nothing happened. His mouth worked itself open and closed a few times, as though he was unsure if he could still speak, and his eyes watered with unbidden tears. He looked up, wordlessly pleading with Arkaan for it not to be true, but he could only offer a shake of his head. Wounds like this were never easy, and Arkaan had seen the effects on other men, but never the immediate aftermath.

The inability to offer any real solace to the young man was difficult for Arkaan. If it hadn't been for him, Jay wouldn't have been in that base in the first place, and would probably be still living happily with both arms intact. Guilt began to play heavily on his mind, an unknown and unwanted emotion for the man, a man who'd lived his life living by the moment and not allowing himself the luxury of over-thinking his actions nor regretting them. There had been times when his actions had made him less than proud of himself, but he'd quickly moved on, learning from them and not looking back more than was necessary. But now, confronted with the awful realisation that he had all but caused the distress of this boy, this innocent young man he'd pulled out of a bar on Coruscant, he wasn't sure he could handle it.

A pair of hands wrapped themselves around his chest, and a head leaned on his shoulder, lips resting centimeters away from his neck.

"Don't blame yourself," breathed a voice in his ear. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen, and it was that SBD that ripped his arm off, not you."

"I could have left him back in that bar," he hissed.

"If you had, you know as well as I do that he'd probably be dead now. You saved him from that."

"Saved him from death so he could get his arm ripped off?"

"Stop it, Noa. If you want to blame someone, blame me. I told you to take him, and you did it."

"You still haven't told me why yet, _haar'chak_!"

"And I will, when the time comes."

He felt a kiss on his neck and the weight of the hands and head disappeared, to be replaced with another odd weight in his hand. He looked down and was surprised to see a silver bed pan in his hand. Looking back up, he saw Jay begin to heave, and, understanding, thrust it under Jay's mouth as the boy threw up, spattering vomit all over the pan and up Arkaan's arm. Jay heaved again and again, puking everything in his stomach up and into the bowl and partly over Arkaan and the side of the bed. Yelling for a nurse, Arkaan did his best to comfort Jay, patting his back and keeping the pan in position despite his arm getting covered from the spray.

From seemingly nowhere, a medical droid appeared and took over, gently pushing Arkaan away and began easing Jay back into the bed, catching as much of the bile as it could and cleaning up the spray with other appendages. A white hand took the almost full pan from Arkaan's hand, and he looked up to see a knowing smile on Marcla's face. Somehow, she looked untouched, as though the battle hadn't affected her in any way, with her new cream robes almost glowing in the bright med centre lights.

Placing the bowl on the side to be collected later, she moved around the other side of the bed and laid her hands on Jay, helping the droid calm him down. Arkaan watched for a few minutes as they struggled with him until eventually the boy collapsed back, sobs shaking his body, tears flowing like rain down his cheeks.

Unable to stand it, Arkaan turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the ward, not caring where he was going. Almost by instinct, he ended up beside a vending machine, the transparent front of the machine enticing him with unreachable snacks and drinks. He fumbled in his robes for a few seconds before realizing he didn't have any credits on him, or even a card to charge it to. He slammed his hand into the front in frustration, shaking the machine and making it rock. His chest began to hurt as the emotions began to swirl and fight their way up, defying his efforts to keep them buried, and he just stood there, fighting their influence, refusing to give in to them, refusing to cry, refusing to let go.

Someone pulled him away from the machine and someone else fed the machine, retrieving a brightly-wrapped bar of some sort. The first person thrust it into Arkaan's hands and he looked up.

"Raven said you like these," said Jaro Hoday.

The Jedi looked horrific. He was still wearing the armoured robes he'd fought in, complete with blaster burns and dusty sweat marks, and some of the armour looked as though it had had parts completely snapped away, some unknown force ripping the reinforced _Katarn_ plates away from his body. His eyes were red-rimmed and blood-shot, black bags easily visible beneath them, and he had the beginnings of a full-beard forming on his chin. His hair was greasy and unkempt, still streaked with grey dust, and cuts and small bruises showed on his face beneath the grime.

Behind him, Raven and the Wookiee were in a similar state. Neither were as bad as Hoday, but the marks of battle had left obvious marks on both, with the Wookiee's red armour looking resembling the hue of dried blood.

"Thanks," replied Arkaan somewhat huskily. "You look like _osik_."

"Yeah, I've been told. How's your stomach?"

Arkaan let the dressing gown hang open and lifted the tunic, exposing a battered and bruised torso. Angry red skin surrounded his stomach, which was covered in a translucent blue bacta-press, secured on with white bandages, some of which were beginning to turn a faint pink colour as blood seeped into them.

"It's healing."

"By the Force, Noa, you shouldn't be up and around with a gut-shot like that!" exclaimed Raven from behind Hoday.

"Couldn't leave the kid alone like that, not after what happened."

"I heard about that. I'm sorry," said Hoday quietly, putting a hand on Arkaan's shoulder.

"Wasn't your fault, _jetii_."

"And I suppose it's yours?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you're thinking it."

"Get out of my head, damn you," growled Arkaan, warningly.

"I don't need to be, I can see it in your eyes."

"Yeah, well, he's my responsibility. I should've looked after him better."

"Nothing you could've done, Noa, so stop beating yourself up over it."

Arkaan laughed bitterly, ripping open the wrapper of the bar and chewing on it."

"What's this? A Jedi telling a Mandalorian how to deal with battle fatigue and guilt? What's next, you going to tell me not to give in to anger, that it's the path to the dark side? Welcome to the real world, Jaro. This is war, this is what we do, this is what we have to deal with. It's not pretty, it's not romantic, it just _is_, so don't try and give me any of your _shab'la_ platitudes and let me deal with it in my own time, like I've done for my entire _shab'la_ life. Go and have a shower instead, you stink."

Hoday watched Arkaan walk off, his eyes hard, fighting against the anger that was threatening to consume him. He turned to see Raven and the Wookiee staring at him, Raven with undisguised disgust on his face.

"What?" he demanded.

"You're a _shab'la_ hypocrite, you know that?" said Raven, shaking his head.

"How dare you," he began, but Raven cut him off.

"No, how dare you. You're trying to make him feel better about himself by telling him not to blame himself for what happened to the man under his charge, when it's you who need to take your own damn advice. How many men did you lose? Your first command and just over a hundred men walked away intact, and here you are, refusing medical attention, refusing to shower and refusing to acknowledge that it's not your fault. Casualties happen, _General_, so deal with it. Follow your own _shab'la_ advice and stop beating _yourself_ up. Your men need you to pick up the pieces and lead them, not mope around a med centre crying over the broken husks of men you led into battle. _K'atini, _General. Suck it up."

Shaking his head, Raven stalked off, his head in his hands. Hoday looked down at the floor and rubbed his forehead furiously as his chin began to wobble uncontrollably, and his eyes welled up. An enormous pair of furry hands clamped down onto his shoulders and gently pushed him along, guiding him through the med centre and out through the entrance.

The odd couple of a battle-scarred Wookiee and a visibly shaken Jedi drew a few looks, but the glares from the Wookiee averted any stares, and they made the journey to the temporary barracks near the docks in a gunship set aside for Hoday's use.

In Hoday's quarters, the Wookiee sat Hoday down and helped him pull off his clothes until he stood in just his undergarments. Disappearing for a few seconds, he reappeared and got Hoday back up and into the refresher unit, the shower already steaming hot, and backed out of the room, sealing the room behind him.

Drawing himself together, Hoday pulled off the rest of his clothes and stood under the stream of hot water, letting it run over his body and head, ridding him of a lot of the dust and sweat. Where it hit the small, untreated lacerations, the water stung, but he ignored the pain, lethargically soaping up and rinsing off, scrubbing his hair with gel from a silver receptacle in the wall and rinsing that too.

His body now clean, Hoday stepped out of the shower and turned off the water before drying himself off as best he could. A steamed up mirror on one wall caught his eye, and he dragged a hand across the surface, wiping it off so he could see into it.

A haggard face peered back, still pink from the scrubbing and hot water. The hair on his chin made him sneer, and he looked around for his trousers. Rummaging through them, he found his lightsabre still hanging from the belt clip and returned to the mirror. A few seconds adjustment with the controls and a small, thin blade appeared, no larger than a stiletto blade.

He took a deep breath and very slowly, began to drag the blade across his chin and cheeks, forcing himself to concentrate and stop his hand from shaking. He refused to open himself to the Force, instead relying on the physical discipline the years at the Jedi Temple had taught him to keep himself from cutting his neck open.

A few minutes later, he deactivated the purple blade, and breathed out in relief. It wasn't a perfect shave, but it had done the job, and what few patches there were could easily be cleared up in the morning.

He searched a few drawers and walked out of the refresher unit clad in a light tunic and trousers, his belt reattached over it with his lightsabre dangling off of it, to see the Wookiee sitting at a table, a flask set before him with two mugs beside it. His huge furred head turned, and he picked up a mug, offering it to Hoday.

"What is it?" he asked, sniffing it and almost recoiling from the smell.

The Wookiee laughed gruffly and picked up his own mug, throwing back the contents and grinning. Taking the cue, Hoday shrugged and did the same, almost choking as the liquid burned its way down his throat. The Wookiee laughed again and refilled both mugs before taking another swig. Hoday took another drink, slower this time and sat down beside the Wookiee.

"What is your name, anyway?"

The Wookiee growled and yiffed at him for a few seconds, and Hoday looked at him, confused. The same tirade repeated itself from the Wookiee's mouth and Hoday shook his head.

"No wonder they call you 'the Wookiee'," he said. "Don't you have a nickname?"

The furred head shook and Hoday took another drink.

"We'll have to find you one. This is good, by the way. I'll have to get you to make me some."

The Wookiee nodded and stood, gesturing at the bedroom and taking Hoday's drink off him. Taking the hint, the Jedi stood as well and walked over towards his bed, not bothering to switch on the light in the room. He turned to thank the Wookiee, but found his throat had choked up and he couldn't speak.

A hand descended onto his head, patting it softly before the door closed, leaving Hoday alone in the room. A few seconds later, the light under the door went out and he heard the outside door closing and locking.

Mere minutes later, Hoday was fast asleep, his cheeks still wet and his eyes still red, and dreamed of men in white armour and no faces exploding in front of him whilst he watched helplessly.

***

The next two months were spent on Corellia recuperating. Replacement troopers were shipped in from Kamino, but a lot of them hadn't had the same level of training that the surviving 78th troopers had. Out of necessity, the battalion was reorganized, with the survivors spread out amongst the new influx to better spread the experience, but even with the new clones, the battalion was still under-strength by a regiment. Despite this, on the orders of General Hoday, the new troopers were trained up and drilled, and modifications made to their equipment, including a red vertical stripe on their armour, and, for the surviving veterans, the inclusion of a pair of jaig eyes to their helmet. The decoration was a Mandalorian tradition, and was usually bestowed upon warriors who had distinguished themselves in battle, and at Raven's insistence, were also added to the helmets of Jay and Arkaan, though Arkaan refused to paint his on, and Jay, who didn't really understand what they were, watched bemused in a drugged-up daze as Raven himself painted them on Jay's helmet, adding the red stripe and etching the jaig eyes in white.

Arkaan healed quickly, refusing to allow the gut shot to keep him in bed, against the recommendations of the doctors and Marcla. Unknown to him, the Arkanian took the opportunity whilst he slept to put him in a healing trance that lasted only a few hours at a time, so as not to arouse suspicion, and it helped to speed his recovery. The Mandalorian, meanwhile, spent many nights by Jay's bed as the young man healed. He watched as Jay cried himself to sleep some nights and struggled to come to terms with the loss of his arm. Arkaan, being the man responsible for Jay whilst he was recuperating, had become the de-facto decision-maker for the operations to rebuild Jay's side, and a few important decisions had been made.

As well as having his arm ripped off, part of the left side of his torso had been torn away as well, causing massive trauma, and it was a miracle they'd been able to keep him alive until they'd gotten him on board the _Iron Fist_ and to proper medical facilities. They'd been able to save his life, but there was too much damage to reattach the severed limb, and bacta could only do so much. As such, they'd had to literally rebuild one side of his torso, replacing the organic flesh with bionic implants, and as a part of the rebuilding process, they'd prepared the remnants of the stump for the attachment of a new cybernetic limb.

But the doctors refused to allow one to be fitted until Jay's body had healed around the implants, giving Arkaan time to send Senaar to pick up some supplies. He'd decided to give the boy something back, and had pulled in some favours, and ready to be fitted was a beskar-alloy cybernetic arm, complete with in-built weapons systems, reinforced joints and an optional 'skin', in case Jay decided he didn't like the plain metal look.

Hoday, meanwhile, had spent a lot of time with Raven and the Wookiee, leaning on them heavily when it came to decision-making, and he'd grown closer to the Wookiee in particular, learning off both Raven and the Wookiee how to make the _tihaar_ spirit drink that the Wookiee had introduced him to. He also spent the time learning Shyriiwook, so he could communicate with the Wookiee without having to go through Raven or a droid translator.

An unfortunate side effect of the learning process, however, was Hoday's insistence on testing each batch himself, until it was a rare sight to see the Jedi General without a flask on his belt.

Whilst they hadn't exactly made up after their argument by the vending machine, both Arkaan and Hoday had acknowledged that each had their problems to work through, and were able to work together, and, on occasion, join Raven and the Wookiee during their down-times.

True to her role, Marcla, when she wasn't helping with Jay's recovery, spent most of her time shadowing Arkaan, watching him as he stiffly went about his duties as an advisor and keeping him company wherever he went.

One night, Hoday, Raven and Arkaan had gotten drunk on a batch of particularly potent batch of Hoday's experiments in _tihaar_, and, whilst Marcla looked on disapprovingly, Hoday proceeded to inform the Mandalorians of all that was wrong within the Jedi Order and the Republic, and how he'd set about fixing the problems. Some of what he said came dangerously close to treason, whilst other comments would have had him executed on the spot for conspiracy to overthrow the Chancellor. The only thing staying Marcla's hand was the knowledge that there was probably more alcohol in Hoday's body that blood, and that he'd be suffering in the morning for his crimes.

"D'you guys know his name?!" exclaimed Hoday, leaning back dangerously on the two back legs of a chair and pointing a wobbly finger at the Wookiee.

"I thought it was Woof Woof or something," slurred Arkaan, his head in his hands.

"_Nayc_, it's Arrgarrrflurglegraaarr," piped up Raven. "Isn't it?"

All three looked up at the Wookiee, who roared his name as loud as he could, several times, both hands raised to the sky, one hand clutching a half-empty bottle.

"Let's call him Loud-Mouth," said Arkaan. "My ears hurt."

"No, no, no," Hoday wagged his finger at him. "Call him…Short Stuff!"

The trio fell about laughing, with the Wookiee shaking his head. Marcla rolled her eyes before closing them and settling down to meditate.

"Wait a second, wait a second. Your Mandalorian language, is there a word for midget?" asked Hoday, peering up at Raven and Arkaan, who both looked at each other.

"Nope. No dwarf either."

"Oh. What about…what about tiny?"

"_Orikih_."

"Orikih?"

Raven and Arkaan both nodded solemnly at Hoday who raised a bottle in triumph. With as much ceremony as he could drunkenly muster, he stood and drew himself upright and marched over to the Wookiee, before saluting and raising the bottle.

"I now christen you…Orikih!"

With that, he poured the contents of the bottle over the Wookiee's head and saluted once again, before unceremoniously hugging the newly-named walking carpet. The other two Mandalorians cheered, and Orikih himself joined them, gathering the other two in for a group hug.

Word spread quickly, and the 78th Assault Battalion soon learned of the Wookiee's new name, and its meaning, and, instead of treating him with ridicule, almost adopted Orikih, soon shortened to Ori, as an impromptu and lethal mascot.

***

Almost two months to the day since Jay woke up for the first time, the group of Jedi and Mandalorians found themselves gathered in a small gym attached to the med centre. Rehabilitation equipment and mats were littered around the stark-white room, and a small, portable med-station had been fitted into one wall, for emergencies. For today, however, the equipment had been pushed to the sides of the room, with a technician waiting beside a fully-kitted out workstation.

Aware of the semi-formal nature of what was about to happen, Arkaan, Raven and Orikih were in full armour, but had left their helmets and weapons in their quarters, and Marcla and Hoday wore their full traditional Jedi robes, Hoday with a set of non-traditional black armour plates covering his upper chest, shoulders, forearms and lower legs. On a table beside Arkaan, a full set of Mandalorian armour, or _beskar'gam,_ was laid out, complete with helmet, gauntlets and webbing. It had been painted an olive green, with purple and black highlights, and a vertical red stripe on the helmet divided the twin eyes of the jaig eyes. A new rifle of a design unfamiliar to anyone but Arkaan lay beside it, and the others knew not to ask questions.

A pair of sliding doors opened, and a nurse appeared, pushing a wheelchair with Jay sitting in it, looking pale and drawn, but better than he had been in the last few weeks. The nurse, a stunning brunette, helped Jay out of the wheelchair before withdrawing to stand next to the med-station built into the far wall. An encouraging smile from the nurse made Jay look a bit brighter, and he stood and listened for a few minutes as the technician quietly spoke to him, explaining what was going to happen.

After some nodding and brave looks, the technician guided Jay towards his workstation and helped him out of the loose tunic he was wearing. It dropped to the floor, revealing the extent of the cybernetics. All of the left side of his torso gleamed dully in the bright light, with metal tracing its ways from just beneath his shoulder out and down to his left nipple, then curved down to his waist in a rough triangle, the point ending just above his pelvis on the left side of his body. All that remained of his left arm was the deltoid muscle; the space beneath it was filled by a metallic-looking skin, silvery lines running through it. The stump came to a truncated point somewhere halfway between his armpit and where his elbow would have been, and some of the metal was shaped and grooved on the outside. The skin around the implants was red in places, but for the most part was a healthy pink, with only a few grey areas where the skin overlapped the cybernetics.

The first thing the technician did with Jay was have him stand with his arms out to the side whilst he performed a few tests on the implants. Apparently coming back positive, the tech nodded to himself and then began to attach some plates and some sort of mechanism to hard points on the exposed metal in Jay's side. The constructs helped fill out Jay's figure and went right up to his armpit, with some of it locking into the metal underside of the stump.

Next, Jay was stood right next to the workstation and told to insert the stump into a hole. This part took the longest, with the technician making all sorts of adjustments and attachments, sometimes standing still for minutes at a time as he concentrated on what he was doing. Jay, meanwhile, stood there patiently, trepidation and nerves evident on his face.

Halfway through the procedure, the sliding doors opened, and a heavily armoured clone trooper with blue markings on his armour slipped into the gym, ignoring the curious looks and standing quietly out of the way. The others, meanwhile, went back to watching with fascination at the process being carried out in front of them.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the technician took a step back, unlocked something on his workstation and made Jay turn around. As he turned, part of the workstation came away with him, and where there had previously been a stump, an articulated metallic arm now hung. Jay looked surprised at how sudden it had been and stood there in shocked silence for a few seconds, staring at it and gingerly moving it experimentally.

Orikih brayed a cheer and jogged over to Jay, putting an arm round him and clapping him on the shoulder. The others laughed and cheered as well, all coming over to pat him on the back and marvel at the new arm.

"How does it feel?" asked the technician, raising his voice to make it heard over the others.

Jay, unable to answer, merely grinned at him and looked between the tech and the arm.

"Alright, just a few physical tests and I'm done. Hold your arm out. Now raise it. And lower it. Okay, straight out. Now rotate it. Okay, now flex your elbow. Good, good, now, rotate the wrist. Well done, and now each finger, one at a time. Alright, it looks like you're good. There's a few custom modifications, thanks to one of your benefactors here, ones I don't entirely agree with, but then again, I didn't make it, I'm just fitting the thing. On this card are some instructions on how to fully utilize all the options, I highly suggest you read it. Get it tested every few weeks, for the first six months, then every six months or if you notice something wrong with it, any glitches and what-not. Anyway, that's my job done, so I'll leave you folks to it."

They thanked the man as a group, clapping him on the back as well before he was able to extricate himself to pack up his workstation.

"How does it feel?" asked Raven again.

"It feels kinda heavy, but I can move it around as easy as my real arm. It's really strange. What did he mean by modifications?"

"I think I can answer that," said Arkaan. "I had a friend make it for you. Basically, it's armoured with _beskar_, the same stuff in Mando armour, and we've made it somewhat modular. The hand can be swapped out, you can install certain interesting little devices, and it runs off a highly specialized power cell. There's only a small blaster in there at the moment, plus a small blade, but you'll find a box in your quarters that you might find…fun, shall we say."

"I…don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Jay. You're my responsibility, remember? I owe you that arm."

"Well, thanks. It means a lot."

"Ah, Arkaan, the other thing…?" prompted Raven.

"Oh, yeah, right. Over here, Jay."

Arkaan led them over towards the table and stood Jay in front of it, one hand on his shoulder.

"Jay, we made these for you. We thought it might come in handy, seeing as you have a tendency to get smacked around a bit. They should fit, but we can adjust them if you need us to."

Overcome with emotion, Jay wrapped his real arm around Arkaan, hugging him tightly, tears in his eyes. Arkaan returned the hug and caught the eye of the woman next to him as she smiled at them both, before kissing both Jay and Arkaan on the cheek. Arkaan blinked fiercely, and she was gone.

A cough from the side of the room caught their attention, and they all looked up to see the clone trooper in the corner, lowering his hand from his helmet. Hoday shook his head.

"I'll handle this," he said, waving them back to their celebration, and walked as officiously as he could towards the clone. "Report."

"Sir," saluted the clone. "Are you Jedi General Jaro Hoday of the 78th Assault Battalion?"

"I am."

"Sir, Alpha-seven-eight, lieutenant, reporting. I was told to make myself known to the local Jedi commander before continuing my mission."

"What mission is that, lieutenant?"

"Classified, sir."

"Alpha-seven-eight, I notice you're wearing non-standard armour. Why is that?"

True to Hoday's word, the clone trooper had additions to his armour that Hoday had never seen before, like the range-finder jutting up from his helmet, the kama wrapped around his waist, the pauldron on his shoulder and the twin blaster pistols holstered over the skirt-like kama. A strange rifle was hanging from a strap by his side, and the blue paint on his armour looked almost pristine.

"I'm an ARC, sir."

"A what?"

"Advanced Recon Commando. We were trained by Jango Fett himself, sir. I've heard us referred to as super-commandos if it helps."

Hoday's memory flashed back to a conversation with Marcla, and he narrowed his eyes.

"How long have you been active, lieutenant?"

"A few weeks, sir. We were activated after the Separatists attack on Kamino, and have since been ordered on intelligence gathering and asset-denial missions in Sep space. My mission puts me in and around Corellia, making you the local Jedi commander."

"Does that mean you're under my command?"

"No, sir. This is merely a professional courtesy. Is that all, sir?"

"What exactly is your mission again?"

"It's on a need-to-know basis, General, and right now, you're not on the list of people who need to know."

"Well, can I at least offer you some company on your mission, give you some help?"

The ARC stiffened slightly, and through the Force, Hoday caught waves of hostility radiating off the man.

"I work better alone, sir. May I go?"

"One more thing."

"Sir?"

"Do you have a name?"

Hoday watched as the ARC shifted uncomfortably on his feet, as though unsure of how to answer.

"Sir…I am A-seven-eight."

"Can you speak Mandalorian, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's seventy-eight?"

"_Tad'eta sh'ehn_, sir."

"Would you object if I called you Shane then?"

"I don't really care what you call me, sir, just don't get in my way."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, sir, just a polite warning."

"Alright, Lieutenant Shane. I look forward to your reports."

The newly-christened Shane saluted smartly before turning on his heel and marching out. Watching him go, Hoday shook his head.

_ARC troopers. That's a new one on me_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

"You wanted to see me?"

Hoday looked up at the knock and waved Arkaan into his office. An assistant, a human female, was standing next to the Jedi, patiently waiting for him to sign administrative forms on the datapad he had in his hands, and the desk in front of him was strewn with flimsies and datacards, and a few personal items, like a holo of Hoday next to a small green figure, another taller, dark-skinned humanoid and a bearded human, all three wearing Jedi robes. His lightsabre was sitting on the desk, the leather-wrapped hilt and organic lines contrasting with the more functional look of the desk.

Frowning, Hoday looked at his assistant and then back at the datapad.

"What's this?" he asked, pointing to something on the screen.

"It's a delivery confirmation, sir. It's just to make sure we received the consignment, and I already had it checked, all present and correct."

"I know what it is, but what's this in the order? I don't remember putting an order in for bayonets, the DC15 doesn't even have an attachment point for them."

Arkaan coughed slightly into his hand and struggled to keep a straight face. Hoday looked at him suspiciously.

"You're the commanding officer of a battalion of shock-troopers," said Arkaan quietly. "Shock-troopers, by their nature, will end up getting up close and personal with the enemy, and long-range weapons are useless in close-combat. You have a lightsabre, what do your men have?"

"I see your point, but how did you manage to put the order in?"

"You'd be surprised what Jay can do with that fancy datapad of his."

"Oh, great," said Hoday, rolling his eyes. "Now he's a slicer."

"Never said that. What did you want, anyway?"

"We're being moved back to Triple Zero, to be included as a part of a larger task-force. I don't know where we're headed after that, but we're to be transported on the _Iron Fist_."

"I thought she was still in dry-dock?"

"They've made superficial repairs, so she's mostly space-worthy, but the docks here at Corellia aren't equipped for Acclamator-class vessels, so she's being moved to Coruscant where they are equipped for them until the Corellian shipyards can be brought up to date. The other two ships in the fleet are going straight to Kuat, where they'll be repaired and then sent back to Kamino to load up with new troops. We, on the other hand, will be billeted on Coruscant for a while, but I've not been told for how long, or where we'll be headed once the task-force is brought together."

"Any word on who'll be leading the task-force?"

"No. All I know is we're heading for Coruscant. Apart from that, I'm as clueless as you are. Anyway, see to getting yourself and Jay sorted out, and make sure Raven and Orikih know as well. We'll be heading out in forty-eight hours, make sure you're back here at oh-six-hundred the day after tomorrow. Oh, and tell Jay he'll find my lightsabre up his rear end if I catch him forging my signature again."

Arkaan chuckled and saluted and made his way back to their quarters.

The next forty hours were spent packing up the few hundred troopers left of 78th and their support structure and moving them to the _Iron Fist_. The Acclamator-class ship still hadn't replaced the gunships lost during the earlier campaign, and it made the operation run that much slower, but despite not having a third of the lifting capabilities, the operation went as smoothly as could be expected. That is, utter chaos, with sergeants shouting over each other in an effort to be heard, and logistics troopers having the success of someone trying to herd cats.

Two days later, and Arkaan and Jay arrived on the landing platform, each with the standard-issue shapeless bag of armies the galaxy over at their feet, stuffed full of their belongings. The _Tracyn'senaar_ had already been put into storage on board the _Iron Fist_, meaning they had to rely on the same transport that the troopers of the 78th had to. Raven and Orikih were already there, both wearing full armour and with bags at their feet. Marcla arrived a few minutes later with a small sack, nodded at the four of them and proceeded to sit cross-legged on the platform, meditating.

In front of them, two more gunships finished loading up with troopers and took off, their doors closing automatically as they went. A small group still waited to be collected, no more than a platoon's worth, and it appeared they would be sharing a transport, judging by the single transport that seemed to be rapidly approaching.

Hoday arrived as the gunship set down, his assistant in tow. Both carried bags, with the assistant carrying two large bags as opposed to Hoday's single sack.

"Gentlemen, and lady," he said, acknowledging Marcla with his last statement. "Last transport up to the _Iron First_. We should be underway as soon as we arrive on board, so I recommend getting your things stowed as soon as possible."

The group boarded the gunship, grabbing hold of the canvas webbing that was strung from the ceiling to support themselves, and the troopers boarded the gunship behind them. Once they were all safely on board, the LAAT/i lurched into the air, swinging away from the platform. Before the wind could pick up, the doors closed around them, sealing the cargo compartment with a hiss of air.

"ETA, ten minutes," intoned the pilot over the intercom.

Hoday disappeared towards the cockpit, and Raven turned to Jay.

"How's the arm?" he asked.

"I'm still getting used to it. It's a lot stronger than my other arm, and a lot heavier too, but I have the same amount of control over it, but I keep over-doing things, like crushing cups or smacking myself in the head when I just want to scratch my forehead."

Raven laughed, as did Orikih and Arkaan, and Jay was pretty sure the clones around them weren't just shaking because of turbulence. He twisted his face in embarrassment and wished he was wearing his helmet.

Like the arm, he was still getting used to the armour, especially the helmet. The Head's Up Display, or the HUD, was different to the ones in the clone trooper helmet, but used some of the same technology. Arkaan had forgotten to turn off the three-hundred and sixty degree display when he'd first given it to him, and Jay had nearly thrown up before he'd managed to pull the helmet off. Even after adjusting the display, he was still getting used to it and all the different modes and attachments he could apply. He hadn't even looked at the gauntlets, and was still wearing the clone armour gauntlets he'd originally been wearing, until he had a chance to begin looking at the Mandalorian gauntlets. If he was being honest, they scared him a little and he didn't trust himself not to make a mess of things if he began fiddling with them or even wearing them.

He sighed to himself.

The gunship shuddered beneath their feet as they left the atmosphere, and Jay spent the time staring at the deck, staring into nothingness. More turbulence announced their arrival in the hangar of the _Iron Fist_, and the doors on either side of the hull swung open as they descended. Half of the clones were dropping out of the cargo bay of the gunship and onto the hangar deck before they'd even settled, and Jay and the others hopped off, Jay listening as the gunship's engines wound down.

"Get yourself settled, Jay, I'll catch up with you later." Arkaan waved at Jay and followed Hoday out of the hangar bay towards what Jay assumed was the bridge.

***

"Coming up on checkpoint two, sir."

Captain Pell looked up and acknowledged the ensign with a wave of his hand.

They were approximately half-way to Coruscant from Corellia, using well-travelled hyperspace lanes and not running the engines at top speed in an effort to keep them from over-heating and running well within safe limits.

Around Pell, the bridge crew were making themselves busy, running diagnostics, making preparations for the upcoming transition and running more diagnostics. The ship badly needed a proper repair, and half of it was held together by hastily-welded durasteel sheets. Fully two-thirds of the vessel were off-limits to anyone not wearing vacuum-sealed EV suits, and even as they were travelling through hyperspace, work-teams were making repairs and replacing large sections of the ship.

In one of the work-pits on the bridge, beside a sensor station, Jay and a young human ensign were playing with Jay's new arm, with several cables leading to it and his expensive datapad in pieces on top of the console.

"Test it," said the ensign.

Jay tapped a button on the datapad and, from the palm of the beskar-reinforced hand, a small hologram was projected onto the floor. It resolved into the Republic cog and quickly cycled through various different diagnostic read-outs as the ensign tapped away at the keyboard on his station.

"Finally!" exclaimed Jay.

"Yeah, must've been that micro-convertor. What sort of tech is that arm again?"

"I don't know, Mandalorian, I think."

"Never seen anything like it."

"Me neither. Oh, _frik_, we're coming up on the next course-change!"

The pair hurried to pack away the cables, and Jay managed to work the screen of the datapad into a specially-designed holder built into the inside of his metal forearm, before tucking the remnants into a small bag and shoving that into a pocket. The screen on the ensign's station lit up again and Jay quickly climbed up out of the pit and found himself standing next to Arkaan, who merely raised an eyebrow before crossing his arms and turning back to the view outside.

A countdown was called out and, with a faint shudder, the warped, blue-ish tunnel of light outside exploded into a mess of elongated stars and then stilled into a black field of stars.

Almost immediately, Captain Pell began calling out orders, and the grey arrowhead that was the _Iron Fist_ pulled itself out of the hyperspace lane and away from any potential collisions with other vessels dropping out of hyperspace.

"Lieutenant, have Engineering run diagnostics again and compare them to the results from earlier. Navigation, plot our next jump from this point. Quickly as possible please, gentlemen, I don't want to be here any longer than we need to." Pell strode across the bridge, shedding ensigns and young officers like a tree in autumn.

Outside, a distant nebula was a red and orange hued stain on the viewports, and Jay stared at it, wishing they were closer. He'd always loved seeing the pictures deep space probes brought back of nebulae and seeing sunrises from orbit, but he'd never gotten a chance to see it with his own eyes, and this could be his only chance.

He frowned and surreptitiously rotated his left arm and glanced at the screen of the datapad in the forearm. Just as he'd suspected, the readout was the same as the sensor station he'd just vacated. Casually, he raised his forearm and began tapping the screen with his finger, zooming in on the nebula and rotating the view through different filters, grinning like a school child as he did so.

A blip caught his eye as he flicked through one of the filters, and he stopped and backed up. Nothing appeared on the screen apart from the disturbance caused by the nebula, the computer automatically filtering it out and he went to move on again when the blip appeared.

Alarmed, Jay looked up and caught the eye of the ensign at the sensor station and instantly knew that the other man had been watching. The ensign opened his mouth and Jay cringed.

"Captain, I have a contact, bearing zero-zero-eight, elevation three-nine."

"Ensign, we're outside a major hyperspace lane. If you call out every contact, we'll be here all week." A few of the other officers sniggered, and Captain Pell turned to regard the ensign with a raised eyebrow.

"Sir, the hyperspace lane is at one-eight-four. This contact is near the nebula and at extreme range."

The smiles died and Pell dismissed the men with a wave of his hand and was quickly behind the ensign, looking over his shoulder at the screen.

"Report, ensign," said the captain quietly.

"It's very faint and intermittent, but it appears on too many sweeps and too often to be an anomaly. Diagnostic comes up clean, so it's definitely there. I'm trying to clean up the signal and pinpoint it, but it's going to take some time. It…would be a lot easier if we were closer, sir."

"Comm, are you picking up any transmissions from the nebula?"

"Very faint chatter, sir, but the computer had already filtered it out as background noise. I've reset the parameters and I'm trying to pinpoint it."

On Jay's screen, the view was rapidly flickering as different filters and sensors were tried and dismissed until eventually a strong contact was returned. The view on the screen was very fuzzy, however, but there was a definite spike and the ensign turned in triumph.

"Got it, sir. I can't tell what it is from this range, but it's big and definitely not natural. I'd guess a capital ship of some sort, but we won't know for certain until we get closer."

Pell stood and stroked his chin with a gloved hand, frowning as he thought.

Sensing something, Jay turned and saw Arkaan peering over his shoulder at the screen in Jay's arm. Jay swallowed, expecting a rebuke, but Arkaan merely raised his eyebrows.

"Useful little tool," he murmured.

Behind him, Hoday walked onto the bridge, returning a small silver flask to a pouch on his hip and wiping his mouth. Two clone troopers either side of the entrance snapped to attention, bringing their rifles up to the port arms position, but Hoday ignored them. He spotted Arkaan and stood next to him, looking at Pell.

"Problem?"

"Sensors picked up something near the nebula. They can't tell what yet, but they think it might be a ship."

"If it is, aren't we obliged to see what's going on?"

"We're at war, the usual rules don't apply."

"Yes, but I'm a Jedi, I'm supposed to stick my nose where it's not wanted."

Pell looked over in annoyance at Arkaan's laughter, but his face brightened upon seeing Hoday.

"General, can I have a word?"

"Certainly, Captain."

The two moved off to a cordoned off area normally used for secure communications and Arkaan and Jay watched them talk with hunched shoulders. The clone troopers snapped to attention again, and they both turned to see the ARC, Shane, step onto the bridge, throwing an unconscious salute to the two troopers. The white and blue helmet turned their way and the ARC lieutenant marched over to them, stopping short of actually saluting them.

"Colonel," came the electronically-filtered voice.

"Lieutenant," replied Arkaan. "I wasn't aware you were on board."

"I'm good at not being spotted if I want to be."

"A handy trick to have."

"It's not a trick. Sir."

"So, you've seen us without our helmets on, are you going to return the favour?"

"Sir, I…look like every other trooper on board this ship."

"Maybe so, but I like to look a man in the eye when I talk to him."

Unspoken as it was, the implication still hung in the air between the two and Jay shifted uncomfortably. A few long moments passed until Shane eventually reached up and tugged off the helmet and tucked it under his arm.

True to his word, he looked like every other clone trooper either man had seen, but his face more lined that they remembered, and his eyes a lot harder than any man his age had a right to be. His hair was shaved into a long strip running up and over his scalp, and an odd-looking goatee decorated his mouth. No scars were in evidence, but there was no telling what else the armour was hiding and Jay was sure Arkaan wasn't going to push it that far.

"Satisfied?" Shane stared into Arkaan's eyes and Arkaan stared right back.

"Nice goatee," grunted the Mandalorian.

Pell and Hoday emerged from their conference and Jay nudged Arkaan. The Jedi walked over to them whilst Pell began to order the vessel to move in closer.

"Shane, good to see you. We've decided to check out that sensor contact, Pell is moving us in for a closer look. If it turns out to be a ship and they need help, I want you, Arkaan, to lead a boarding party. Most civvies don't really know what Republic troops look like, so it'll be best to have you and Jay up front. No offence, lieutenant."

"None taken. Are we ready to be checking out odd signals on the sensors? This could be a Separatist trap."

"Most of the guns are crewed and working, and, yes, we're still in a state of repair, but Pell has assured me that at the first sign of trouble, we'll hyperspace out. In case you're wondering, this was my decision. Pell wanted to just note it in the log and get back to Coruscant, and send someone else to check it out, but since we're here, we can't just pass by without checking it out."

"I still don't trust it, sir."

"Why are you on-board anyway, lieutenant? All this talk about secret missions and for some reason, you're heading back to Coruscant on a half-repaired ship with a severely under-strength battalion. Is there something you should be telling me?"

"Classified, General."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that. Get out of my sight."

Shane blinked and looked around before frowning and retreating to the entrance of the bridge, hiding behind Orikih, who'd spent the past few minutes leaning against the doorway with his arms folded. He replaced his helmet and mimicked Orikih, leaning out from behind him slightly.

The next few minutes were spent in a tense silence as the whole bridge watched the nebula become brighter in the viewports. The main 'port had a magnified view of the contact inset into one corner, which changed periodically as they got closer, the ensign keeping it updated.

Eventually, a speck appeared on the magnified visual view, and that resolved into a long, triangular shaped-vessel. A red stripe bisected the vessel, terminating before a dual-superstructure just in front of the engines. The hull cut in on either side in front of the superstructure before flaring out again, giving it the appearance of having two wings in front of the engines. In front of the cut-out, two large yellow-and-red circular designs stood out from the grey hull and more red markings decorated it up and down the superstructure.

Even at the distance they were, it was becoming evident that the vessel was huge, even larger than the _Iron Fist_, and Arkaan could see Pell was keeping his jaw clenched shut in anticipation.

When they got close enough for the magnified view to be picking out individual gun positions, Pell ordered the ship to slow, and the ensign at the sensor station began calling out statistics.

"Definitely a capital-class vessel, sir. One point one three seven kilometers long, five hundred and forty eight metres at its widest, two hundred and sixty-eight metres high. There's a lot of guns on her too, sir, almost double what we've got."

"Shields up, set for maximum. Guns, begin plotting solutions."

"I'm not picking up any life-signs, sir. Engines are still warm, but the rest of the ship appears to be barely functioning. No heat signatures anywhere, sir."

"Can you feel it?"

Marcla whispered the words, but the whole bridge jumped as she appeared out of nowhere and all but glided along the walkway until she was pressed up against the main viewport at the front of the bridge. She raised a hand and pressed it to the cold surface and turned back to stare at Hoday.

"Can you feel it, Jaro?"

Hoday shook his head as if to clear it, then nodded.

"I thought it was just my head, but yes, now you mention it…I can hear something, in the back of my mind."

The crew glanced around at each other, not quite sure what to make of the two Jedi. Of the men and women on the bridge, only the two Jedi were feeling anything, and it was beginning to unsettle them.

"I don't recognise the style, are there any markings?" called out Arkaan. He'd seen the looks and knew the effect Jedi and their mystical ways could have on a nervous crew.

"Scanning her now," came the reply from the crew pit.

"Helm, bring us alongside," ordered Pell. "Tell the gunships to stand-by. Guns, do you have those solutions yet? And why aren't the shields up?"

The view outside began to drift as the _Iron Fist_ came around and a faint shimmer swept across their view, announcing the arrival of the shields.

"Shields up, sir."

"I've found a signal!" called out the comm officer. "IFF only, trying to hail her now."

"Well?" prompted Pell.

"She's…one of ours, sir."

"I can confirm that, sir, I'm seeing Republic markings on her outer hull."

"IFF has her as the _Indomitable_, sir."

"That's impossible," muttered Pell. "They don't make anything like that."

"No matches in the database, sir."

"What is going on here?"

Pell frowned and joined Marcla at the viewport, staring down at the dagger-shaped vessel. Hoday moved up behind him and his brow furrowed as he concentrated.

"I'm not sensing anything other than a background murmur of…something, but I can't pick up anything individual. If there's anyone alive on board, they're not going to be in a position to do anything."

"I say we board her."

The three of them turned to see Shane standing on the middle of the walkway, his hands behind his back and feet firmly planted on the deck.

"Why, lieutenant?"

"My mission, sir. I think this may be it."

"Care to explain?"

"No."

Hoday's face scrunched up in frustration and he made to snarl, but Arkaan appeared behind the ARC and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I agree with Shane, Jaro. We should board her and find out what's going on. If they need our help, we're in a better position to help than most, what with all the repair teams we have on board."

"What would you suggest?"

"Two teams to begin. One to make initial contact and make a search if necessary, and one standing by to secure the gunship. Have medical and repair teams standing by on-board the _Fist_ in case they're needed. Give team one half an hour to make an initial assessment, then another hour or two to get things sorted on their end."

"Alright. Pell, get the gunships ready. Arkaan, I'll lead the first team, but I want you, Jay, Marcla and Shane with me. Raven and Orikih are to stand-by to launch with emergency medical and engineering teams."

Around them, the bridge began to bustle with activity again. Given a purpose and something to concentrate on doing, the crew found their thoughts dwelling less on the mysterious ship and more on the tasks at hand.

Pell, meanwhile, stayed at the viewpoint whilst his junior officers began to organize the boarding action. Something wasn't right about the ship, but he couldn't put his finger on it. All his instincts were screaming for him to order his heavy guns to open fire and obliterate the vessel. Despite Hoday's confidence in leading a boarding party himself, Pell knew something was going to go wrong, and he was damned if he was going to lose a Jedi General to some space wreck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

The boarding party took off from the _Iron Fist_ in an ominous silence.

Hoday had added two squads to their number, picking two squads from different platoons that had more than their fair share of technical expertise. Not knowing what they were going to encounter, he'd also ordered the troopers, including Shane, to be outfitted with the bulkier vacuum-rated EVA suits of armour, whilst he and Marcla had procured themselves a pair of civilian armoured EVA suits, with bubble helmets and hastily-painted on insignias. The Mandalorian armour that Arkaan and Jay wore required little modification to make them vacuum rated, but had nowhere near the ability to stay outside an atmosphere that the others did. The clones had all been issued with carbines, the shorter length being a lot more useful in the confined spaces of a starship as opposed to the full-length rifle, and the rest had an assortment of weapons.

With the bulkier armour, it was a tight fit in the LAAT/i, and Jay found himself somehow crammed into the entrance to the cockpit. Above him, the pilot and co-pilot conversed silently via their private helmet-to-helmet comm, their heads moving slightly as they ran through pre-flight checks.

The deck beneath their feet shuddered and, automatically, every clone trooper on board raised an arm and gripped the canvas loops hanging from the ceiling for balance. This time, however, there was none of the banter and none of the chatter Jay was used to. The somber mood had permeated the entire ship, and it appeared they were taking it with them to the _Indomitable_.

_Or maybe it's come from there in the first place_, thought Jay.

At an order from Hoday, everyone made their armour ready to be sealed at a moment's notice. Despite their intentions to render assistant, the Jedi had made it clear to the troopers that they weren't taking any chances.

Jay looked up and watched the view outside the cockpit. The hangar swung around and the grey metal was replaced by the dark, speckled star-field. Above the gunship, the bulk of the _Indomitable_ appeared and the pilot brought them around the hull and into a hover in front of the superstructure.

"Transmit IFF and recognition codes," said Hoday over the comm.

"Transmitting now, sir. We're being tracked by auto-defence turrets, but it looks like they're only running on automatic."

The gunship waited in silence as the co-pilot transmitted the data, and a few seconds later, the red stripe below them began to part, opening up to reveal a hangar running the length of the ship.

Hoday exchanged a look with Arkaan, then ordered the pilot to take them. As one, the troopers all sealed their suits, and the others followed suit soon after.

Lights flickered on around them as the pilot dropped the gunship into the long hangar bay. To either side of them, the hangar expanded out into a flight deck, with force-fields holding in the atmosphere. On Hoday's order, the gunship slid sideways through one of the force-fields and set down on the flight deck.

The doors on either side of the gunship slid back, and the clone troopers immediately jumped out, fanning out under the barked orders of the two sergeants. Shane and Arkaan were close behind, their rifles raised and ready.

Around them, the flight deck was eerily empty and quiet. Not even the background hum of the engines could be heard or felt through their boots, and there were no scorch marks of any kind on the walls or deck to indicate there'd been some sort of fight.

"Air's clean, sir," said the pilot over the comm. "Oxygen levels are normal, life-support is operation and force-field integrity is at one hundred percent. Looks like someone left the lights on, too."

Hoday nodded to himself and pulled off his helmet. Marcla followed suit, but the rest of the party kept theirs on.

"Alright, unseal your suits. Sergeant, take your platoon and secure this area. The rest of you, we're heading for the bridge. Pilot, update the _Iron Fist_, and tell them that if we're not heard from in two hours, they are to destroy this vessel, log the location and report back to Coruscant."

Arkaan exchanged a look with Shane. A time-frame of two hours wasn't very long at all, in terms of trying to get answers on board an apparently derelict starship, especially one as enormous as the _Indomitable_. If they were going to try and get it up and running, then it could possibly take a lot longer, depending on the status of the vital systems on-board. Neither of them said anything to Hoday, both understanding that to contradict him in front of the troops was to undermine his authority. Instead, they fell in as the group made for the nearest doorway.

Behind them, clone troopers spread out from the gunship in pairs, one pair heading for what looked like a control console. Jay watched them jack into the console using a datapad and long cables, turning his head as he went.

As they reached the door, the sergeant in charge of the squad accompanying them turned to Hoday hesitantly.

"Rules of engagement, sir?"

Hoday paused, scrunching his face up in concentration.

They were supposed to be boarding to recon the situation and render assistance if necessary. Given the state of the ship and the fact that they didn't recognise the name or even the style of the ship, the way they moved through the ship could affect the way any survivors reacted to them. The safety of his troops was paramount in Hoday's mind, and he decided to trust in their professionalism.

"Aggressive entry where necessary, but be sure to clearly identify yourself to anyone you find before deciding if they're a threat."

The sergeant nodded and, with a few quick hand movements, four troopers stacked up on the door, two one side, one on the other, with the last at the controls. A nod from the sergeant, and the trooper at the controls activated them before swiftly stepping aside.

The door whooshed open and before it had even come to rest in the alcove above, the troopers were moving through at a crouch, carbines raised and ready in front of them. Two peeled away to the left, whilst the other went right, and the trooper that had opened the door followed to the right.

"Clear."

"Clear."

Hoday and Arkaan stepped through the door, closely followed by the sergeant.

It opened up into a large room, with rows of benches and tables. Along one wall, a heavy shutter closed off a bar area, and several doors were set into the opposite wall from the bar. Two of them were open, one revealing a closet full of cleaning supplies, the other leading to a long corridor. A few trays were scattered on the tables, but there were no cups, cutlery or plates on the trays, nor anything else in evidence. In one corner, there was a small pile of trays, creating a knee-high mound.

The rest of the squad followed Hoday and Arkaan in and quickly moved to the other doors, opening them and checking what was beyond. Jay kept himself pressed up against a wall, and Shane stood beside him. The ARC could see how inexperienced Jay was, and was torn between wanting to explore further and make sure Jay was alright. Despite their looks, Jay was almost double the ARC's age, but Shane knew that Jay just didn't have the experience nor the skills the rest of the boarding party had, and he was determined to make sure he didn't become a liability.

More corridors led off from what was obviously the pilot's mess room, and the group paused as uncertainty began to show on Hoday's face.

"Sergeant?" he called over the comm.

"Sir?" two voices replied in his ear, and he winced.

Pointing to the sergeant near him, he gestured for him to come closer.

"Do you have a name, Sergeant?"

"The men call me Sarge, sir."

"So is every other sergeant in the galaxy," muttered someone over the comm.

"Hoday to hangar party. Sergeant, what's your serial number?"

"CT-6983/9925, sir."

"Arkaan, what's five in Mando'a?"

"_Rayshe'a_."

"Right, sergeant, from now on, you are Sergeant Raysh. Acknowledge."

"Uh, yes sir. Thank you, sir."

"Sarge," said Hoday, referring to the sergeant next to him. "Your number?"

"Sir," replied the sergeant hesitantly. "With your permission, I'd like…to be called Jaig, sir."

"Any particular reason why, sergeant?"

The sergeant merely pointed to his helmet and the _jaig_ eyes painted on them. Hoday nodded slowly.

"Very well, Sergeant Jaig. Raysh, have your men managed to access the computer yet?"

"Yes, sir, but it's taking some time getting into the main files. We're having some unexpected problems, but we have managed to get a map of the ship. I took the liberty of marking the most direct route to the bridge. I'm transmitting it to your datapad now, sir."

Behind Hoday, Jay raised his left arm. He'd decided to wear the gauntlets, but with Arkaan's help, he'd cut a hole out of the inside of the left gauntlet so the screen built into his arm showed through. The Jedi turned around, switching off his comm as he did so, and looked at Jay.

"You getting this?"

Jay nodded without looking up, tapping a few keys and intercepting the transmission. A schematic appeared on the screen and Jay rotated it, following the blue line on the screen with his eyes. From the looks of things, they'd have to go down one level, under the flight deck, then along several corridors before getting a turbo-lift directly to the bridge.

He looked up at Hoday and nodded again.

"Looks good," he said.

"Right, pass it around. I want this on your HUD, people, I don't want anyone getting lost."

"I'll take point," said Arkaan, one hand pressed to the side of his helmet, the other hefting a double-barreled rifle. Jay recognised it as the rifle he'd used back on Coruscant and felt a brief pang of homesickness. He quickly buried it and concentrated on sending the map out.

Hoday nodded, and Jaig made another few gestures. The squad formed behind Arkaan and the Mandalorian, his rifle held at a low-ready position, moved out into the corridor, following the route described on the map. Marcla calmly pushed her way through the clone troopers until she was at Arkaan's shoulder. Even in the bulky EVA suit, she still managed to move gracefully, making the un-lit lightsabre in her hand seem a part of her arm.

They made their way through the ship in this fashion, with Arkaan and Marcla taking the lead, with the squad split into two, one group just behind Arkaan and the other bring up the rear. Jay, Hoday and Shane were sandwiched between the two groups, with Jay making constant corrections to their position on the map.

Every door they came across was checked by Arkaan and three troopers immediately behind him. The vast majority were locked, but the few that did open revealed the same story through-out the ship; deserted rooms with no signs of life or habitation.

"It's almost like it's at battle readiness, sir, but with no-one manning their stations," commented Sergeant Jaig at one point.

"Maybe they had to evacuate the ship," suggested Jay quietly.

"But why? We didn't detect any hazardous leaks when it was scanned, and the air sweep came back clean for biohazards," Hoday thought aloud.

"Some viruses don't live long in the air. Long enough to infect a vessel, but die out after a day or two."

Jay's analysis didn't do much to improve the mood of the men, and he quickly shut up after a glare from Hoday.

Before long, they reached the turbo-lifts, and Jay raised his arm again, pulling a pair of cables out from a recessed housing in the metal and plugging it into the console beside the doors.

"There's still power in the lifts, so we should be able to use them. It's a straight run from here up to the bridge," he said, tapping away at the screen.

"Very well, open these doors. Arkaan, Shane, take some of the men and get down to engineering, see what state the engines are in."

"Sir, my mission must take priority," said Shane, somewhat awkwardly.

"Shane, I understand you're outside my chain of command, and that you have this super-secret mission you have to complete, but if this ship is minutes away from detonating from a faulty power core, then your mission goes down the drain, doesn't it? You're required to do whatever you can to facilitate a successful execution of your mission, and right now, that means securing the vital parts of this ship, and that means getting your butt down to engineering with Arkaan."

Shane's face was unreadable beneath his helmet, but every man there knew that Shane wouldn't forget being almost humiliated in front of them by the Jedi General, and there was a very good chance that the ARC would either ignore the Jedi and continue on his own, or just knock the Jedi out.

"Understood, sir," replied Shane quietly after a while. He gave a stiff salute and marched off down the corridor.

Arkaan shook his head and followed the ARC, gesturing at four of the closest clone troopers to follow. Jay watched them go and swallowed. He'd prefer to be with the Mandalorian, and whilst the presence of a senior Jedi General and five experienced clone troopers would have normally reassured him, somehow he was still more worried than normal.

"He doesn't even know where he's going," muttered Hoday.

"ARC's have a photographic memory, Jaro. I assure you, he knows where he's going," Marcla grinned at Jaro.

"Oh, right. Where are you going?"

"Where he goes, I go."

Marcla nodded after Arkaan and swiftly made after the group. Shane had already disappeared around a corner, and Arkaan and the other clones were scurrying to catch up. Hoday shook his head and turned back to the turbo-lifts.

"Why aren't these damned doors open?" he demanded.

Jay shook himself and tapped a few keys, opening the doors in front of them. A lift-car waited for them and they all piled in, Jay last as he unplugged himself from the console and tucked the cables away again.

The short journey in the lift was broken only by a short transmission from the hangar crackling in their ears.

"Hangar to General Hoday. I've got a report of movement, will update when I know more. Raysh out."

The transmission was faint and almost drowned out by static and Hoday frowned as he pressed a hand to his ear.

"Acknowledged, Raysh. Keep me informed."

The doors opened in front of them and the troopers immediately spread out, their carbines in front of them, ready to shoot anything that moved. None of the lights above them were on, creating an inky blackness, punctuated only by a few winking lights of idling consoles, as though the star-field outside had followed them on board. At an order from Jaig, five shafts of light appeared from built-in lamps on the trooper's helmets, sweeping across the darkness and revealing more grey deck plates and empty stations.

"Republic troopers!" called out Hoday, identifying the group to anyone listening. "Is there anyone there?"

Silence.

They moved forwards from the turbo-lift bank and onto the bridge proper, passing empty niches full of shut down and idling equipment. Only a few consoles showed any sign of life, a few small lights piercing the darkness. The troopers split up, each taking a different route, checking each corner of the bridge for signs of life.

"All clear, sir" said Jaig eventually.

Hoday nodded and stepped onto the walkway stretching from the back of the bridge to the viewports. Lights flickered on across the bridge, startling them before they caught themselves. Jaig chuckled softly to himself, lowering his carbine and shrugging sheepishly at Hoday.

"Jaig, any of your men good with these kinds of systems?"

"Wiz," said Jaig, turning to address the trooper in question. "Plug in, see what you can find out."

"You too, Jay," added Hoday.

The trooper and Jay both took seats at their nearest console, Wiz pulling out a datapad and cables from a pouch, Jay doing the same with his arm. After a few seconds, Wiz looked up at Jaig, then Hoday, with a confused expression on his face.

"Sir, this doesn't make sense," he said.

"What doesn't?" asked Hoday, stepping around behind the trooper to see what he was doing.

"It's…it's asking me if I want to update, sir. I keep it synced with the _Iron Fist_ as often as I can, so it shouldn't need it."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Well, it's the update itself, sir. It's far more advanced than it should be."

"I'm getting the same," called out Jay. "My 'pad is the latest tech to be found anywhere, but it's still going to take some time to get it up-to-date with these computers and sync them so we can start looking."

"As quick as you can, please. I don't plan on spending too long on board this ship. Something about it…"

Hoday trailed off, his eyes looking up and around the bridge. It had just struck him how similar the bridge was to that of the _Iron Fist_. Nothing about this vessel was adding up.

As if to confirm his suspicions, Jaig stood next to him and removed his helmet, leaning in so he could speak quietly.

"Sir, this bridge is an almost exact replica of the one on _Iron Fist_. Comm station over there is in the same place, security stations over there and there have moved slightly, but are in the same general area. Conference area has moved to back by the turbo-lifts, and the viewports are slightly different, but that's it. The rest is all in the same place. This is weird, sir."

"I know, sergeant. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. Any thoughts?"

"An experimental ship, perhaps? A prototype on a shake-down cruise that somehow went wrong and they ended up drifting out here."

"Perhaps. We'll just have to see. Interesting hair, by the way."

Jaig looked down embarrassed and nodded his thanks before quickly putting his helmet back on, hiding his dyed red hair.

"Okay, I'm in," called out Jay again, followed closely by Wiz.

Hoday moved to stand behind Jay, watching as the screens scrolled quickly by on the console Jay was sitting at. His fingers almost flew over the keyboard, dipping in and out of the system, calling up screens before dismissing them.

"There," he said triumphantly. "Ships logs. I need your authorization, General."

"I thought you already had it," murmured Hoday as he leaned over Jay to tap in his codes.

Jay blushed and concentrated fiercely on the screen.

"Alright, what do we have here…the _Indomitable_, a _Venator_-class Star Destroyer. Captain Arian Grey commanding...wait a second, this can't be right." Jay frowned at the screen.

"What?"

"Look at the date on this entry. This ship…it won't be built for another two years."

Shock registered on Hoday's face, and the other troopers crowded around Jay's console, trying to get a look at the date.

"He's right," breathed Jaig. "That date isn't for another two years. When's the latest entry?"

"Let me check…okay, here it is. Nearly three years from now."

"That can't be right."

"It is, look. The captain himself checked and authenticated each log entry, there's his signature and personal code at the bottom."

"What does the last entry say?" asked Hoday.

"It says…they were on a retrieval mission of some sort. The orders came from the office of the Chancellor himself. Says they picked up the item and were about to jump into hyperspace when they were recalled to Coruscant immediately by the Admiralty. Something about an attack by the Separatists."

"Does it say where they picked up this item from? Or what it is?"

"Nope, looks like the name of the planet and what it was has been deleted from the records. Again, authorized and signed by the captain, right there."

"What else does it say?"

"They were having some trouble with one of the hyperspace engines as they jumped, and to expect a further log entry. After that, nothing."

"This is impossible." Hoday shook his head.

"According to this, it is, sir. None of this has happened yet, this ship shouldn't be here. Think about it! It's a ship of a design we've never seen before, bearing Republic markings and using Republic recognition signals. It's got to be from the future!" exclaimed Jay, almost waving his hands around in excitement. With the cables still attached to his arm, he very nearly ended up decapitating two of the troopers beside him, but didn't notice in his enthusiasm.

"Time travel?" said Hoday skeptically. "This isn't some science fiction fantasy, for crying out loud. Listen to what you're saying!"

"It's the only possible explanation!"

"Then how did it do it? How did it end up here in the arse-end of nowhere?"

Jay frowned and some of his enthusiasm fizzled out, making him slump in his seat.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But nothing else could explain it."

"Unless this is just a giant hoax," suggested Jaig.

"No," Hoday shook his head. "The resources needed to construct this ship and then tow it out here, and create fake logs and the like, all on the off-chance that someone _might_ notice it whilst making a scheduled course change…no. If it was a hoax, they'd have jumped it into a populated system, but an out of the way one, like Naboo, or Tatooine."

"Which is more believable, General? Ship from the future or a giant hoax?"

"Point taken. Jay, check the rest of the logs and have a look through anything else you find, see if anything supports your theory. The rest of you, search this bridge. I want answers."

Hoday stepped back and glanced around the ship. Despite how unbelievable it sounded, Jay's explanation did make more sense than it being a hoax. It was far too elaborate and expensive to just be someone playing a trick. But it couldn't be true.

Could it?

Raising a hand to his ear, Hoday activated his comm.

"Bridge to Hangar, come in."

Static met his transmission, and he frowned.

"Hoday to Raysh, are you receiving?"

"We a-…..-ack…Ge…ral! …can't…-m, th-…many…-m! …clone arm-…nev-…sir!"

"Raysh! Come in, Sergeant, report!"

More garbled static came over the comm.

"Wiz! Clean that up, get them back on the comm!" ordered Jaig.

The trooper bent over his station, typing furiously as he tried to establish a connection to the hangar party. Hoday kept on yelling into the comm, trying desperately to get a hold of Raysh, but to no avail.

"Jay," he called out, turning back to the console. "Get up the security feeds for the hangar, now!"

Jay's fingers flew again and the logs disappeared from the screen, to be replaced by a view of a tree diagram, various ships system visible on the labels. Jay scrolled down through them, tapping his way through until he found the holo-feed from the hangar bay.

Before he could activate the feed, the screen flickered and went blank. An error message appeared for a second before the whole console shut down.

"What the…" began Jay, frowning at the console and pushing away.

Realisation suddenly hit him and he rapidly unplugged his arm, jerking it back and smacking himself in the face with the hand. He fell backwards off his seat and clamped his organic hand to his nose. Hoday looked down at him like he was mad and shook his head in amazement as Jay got up, still nursing his face.

"Still getting used to it," he muttered.

Suddenly, the lights clicked off above them, including the small status lights on those consoles still activated. The sudden darkness disorientated Jay and Hoday for a few seconds, until five spotlights appeared, two of them centred on the Jedi.

"You alright, sir?" asked Jaig.

"Yes, I'm fine. Helmets on, seal your suits, just in case."

The slight hiss of air from different places around Hoday told him they had complied, and he put actions to words, replacing his own helmet and sealing it. He breathed out and startled himself with how loud the sound was in the confines of his helmet. Seizing the opportunity, he concentrated on listening to his breathing and ran a quick meditative exercise, calming himself with the Force.

Opening his eyes, the lights inside his helmet blinded him for a second until his eyes adjusted. The map of the bridge still hovered to the right of his face, and he quickly shut it down and turned on an external lamp. A few seconds later, Jay activated his own light, and the seven of them stood in silence, looking around the now-dark bridge.

"I don't think someone wants us poking around," said Jay quietly.

"Thank you for that, Jay. Perhaps you'd like to put those detective skills to work and figure out how we can find them?" hissed Hoday.

Obviously, the mental exercise hadn't worked, and Hoday mentally kicked himself. He desperately wanted to take a swig from the flask on his belt, but the helmet prevented him from doing so.

"I'd say from the CIC. There are a few other places someone could have the kinds of access needed to do that, but CIC is the best place for it. It's built to run the ship from that one location if necessary, so I'd start by heading there."

"Then lead on, if you would. Wiz, keep trying to contact Raysh. Jaig, take point. I'm going to see if I can raise Arkaan."

The group moved towards the rear of the bridge, their nerves more on edge than before. Whatever misgivings they may have had in coming here had been magnified by the mysterious shut-down. Someone, or something, didn't want them poking around, as Jay said, and the troopers were unanimous in thinking that perhaps finding this person wasn't exactly the best course of action.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

"You should cut him some slack, you know," said Arkaan, catching up to Shane.

"What?"

"Jaro. General Hoday. He's a Jedi, they're just not made to command troops in battle."

"I thought you Mandalorians hated Jedi."

"I do. But I spent two days in a basement under siege with that Jedi, and several weeks watching him try to cope with men who don't know what to do with down-time, so I cut him some slack."

"And me?" piped up Marcla.

"You're just an annoying hanger-on."

"Thank you, Noa, you're most kind."

"It's Arkaan to you, _di'kut_. So what is this mission anyway, Shane? Do I get to know?"

"No."

"Hey, it doesn't bother me, I'm just curious. Plus, if I spot anything that might help your investigation, I won't know to tell you unless you give me some kind of clue, _vod_."

Shane looked at Arkaan again, looking sidelong at him as they walked down a corridor.

"I'm after intel," he said at last. "Disturbances were picked up in this area a week ago, after being detected near Corellian space. Command didn't know what to make of them, and it was decided that sending a vessel would call too much attention to it. I was sent, in case it turned out to be related to the Seps. Happy now?"

"You knew this was here?"

"No. All that was known was some sort of spatial anomaly was detected several times in the space of a few hours in Corellian space, before disappearing, then reappearing a few days later, closer to Coruscant. I tagged along because you were heading this way."

"And now it seems like you've found your anomaly."

"Apparently so."

Marcla stopped, and a noise behind them made them turn. As before, the corridor was still empty, with no signs of life other than themselves. A ceiling panel rattled and Arkaan frowned at it. Something caught his eye on the floor and he looked down to see a DC15 carbine lying on its side. He quickly glanced up and did a head count.

"Weren't there four of you before?" he said suspiciously at the three clone troopers, who looked amongst themselves for a few seconds before raising their carbines and trying the nearest doors.

As before, all of them were locked down tight, and all defied their attempts to pry them open. Arkaan, meanwhile, was using the barrel of his rifle to poke the ceiling panel he'd seen move. It flexed, but refused to move, the rivets at each corner holding it fast to the beams criss-crossing the ceiling. He frowned at it before whacking it with his gloved fist.

"We have to move on," said Shane.

"But, sir, we can't just leave him here," protested one of the troopers.

"Do you know where he went, trooper?"

"No, sir."

"Then you can't retrieve him, can you? Let's get moving, and if we find him on the way, then we'll pick him up and take him with us, whatever state he's in."

Without waiting for an answer, Shane turned on his heel and marched off. Having no other choice, the troopers followed, Arkaan and Marcla bring up the rear.

With the disappearance of one of the troopers, the others were a lot more on edge, their carbines held at the ready position constantly. Even Arkaan and Shane were affected, with Arkaan holding his rifle ready, the stock in his shoulder, but the barrel pointed down at an angle, and Shane keeping his Westar rifle leveled. The only person in the group to continue on almost unaffected was Marcla, who still managed to look like she was gliding in the clunky EVA suit she wore.

Another corner found them in front of another bank of turbo-lifts, but these ones appeared to be a lot more utilitarian than the last set, with less of the trappings of power visible. The group took a few moments to secure the immediate area, before returning to the lifts.

Shane tapped a button beside the door, and they waited in an awkward silence for a lift-car to arrive. When it did, the doors slid open and all six of them recoiled from the doors.

Bits of white plate were still visible from the red, brown and black mess that spattered the walls of the inside of the car. The stench of feces and burnt meat filled the air and one of the troopers wrenched off his helmet to vomit against a wall. A small pile at the back of lift-car looked to be the bulk of the remains, but with the blood and guts covering the wall, none of them could really be sure what had originally been what.

"I think we found our missing trooper," said Shane.

"I'll get the next one," murmured Arkaan before moving to one side and tapping another call-button.

Marcla moved forward into the lift, carefully avoiding stepping on anything, and knelt beside the small mound of guts, one arm extended and her eyes closed. She waved her hand over the mound once, then stood and backed out the lift, opening her eyes as she went.

"It's definitely the missing trooper," she declared.

"How can you tell?" asked one of the troopers.

"The remains are still warm."

The trooper who'd vomited coughed and spat, before wiping his mouth on the back of his armoured hand. He took a sip from a tube extending out from his armour, filling his mouth with water, rinsing it clean and spitting it onto the puddle of vomit on the floor.

"You alright, trooper?" asked Shane.

"Fine, sir," replied the trooper, replacing his helmet and moving around the lift, studiously avoiding looking inside.

As they waited for another lift-car, Arkaan looked across at the trooper and was suddenly very glad of his helmet. Despite having discovered the torn-up remains of a man they'd lost only minutes before, he found himself with an enormous grin on his face, and was fighting to keep himself from laughing out loud. The trooper noticed Arkaan looking at him and turned his helmet towards him, as if to silently ask him what he wanted. Unable to help himself, Arkaan turned on his external speakers.

"I guess we can call you Upchuck from now on then, trooper," he announced.

"Yes sir," replied the trooper. "Very funny, sir."

Behind Arkaan, Shane was moving slightly, his armour looking like it was vibrating slightly. Arkaan opened a private line to Shane's helmet, and listened to the ARC trooper sniggering. He closed down the link and shut off his comm, before joining Shane and sniggering quietly to himself.

The lift arrived, and, after checking it didn't contain any other remnants of clone trooper, they entered it gingerly. Marcla examined the panel and pressed a button, closing the doors and speeding them on their way.

"Arkaan."

"Shane?"

"I've been trying to raise General Hoday since that trooper disappeared, but it's like he's disappeared too."

"What about Sergeant Jaig?"

"Same story. I also can't raise the hangar party, and the _Iron Fist_ isn't responding either."

"You can contact the _Fist_ from your helmet comm?" said Arkaan in surprise.

"ARCs get access to better equipment, sir. And I _was_ able to listen to transmissions from the _Fist_ up until we lost that trooper. Then it's like everything went dead."

"You think we're being jammed?"

"I think there's someone on this ship that wants us off or dead."

"I'm not leaving until we get answers. Call it professional curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the strill."

"I'm not a strill, lieutenant."

With a jolt, the turbo-lift stopped dead, throwing the occupants to the floor. At the same time, the lights went out, plunging them into darkness. A whispered voice over the comm began swearing softly in a high-pitched voice, repeating the same curse over and over in a panic. Other than that, the lift was left in silence.

Shane was the first one back on his feet, followed closely by Marcla. The ARC activated a spotlight clamped to the side of his helmet and swept it over the doors and onto the control panel. The lights on the panel had gone dark, and a few experimental taps yielded no results.

"I'm changing the rules of engagement," growled Shane. "Any objections?"

The only reply was the clicks and whines of safeties being disengaged and weapons being readied.

Marcla ignited her lightsabre, bathing everything in the lift in a soft, silvery light. Without waiting for any of them, she stabbed it into one side of the door and dragged it down the height of the door, carving a red-hot line. She repeated this for the other side before extending a hand, and, with a brief blast of the Force, blew the doors away from the car.

They only travelled a few inches before they impacted loudly on the walls of the shaft in front of them and dropped away into the abyss below. The Jedi stuck her head out of the newly-created hole and looked up and down, as if contemplating which way to go.

"We need to go down two more levels," said Shane helpfully over the comm.

"Back in a sec," replied the Jedi, before dropping out of the door and disappearing from sight.

The group listened for a few minutes as she leaped around the lift shaft below them. They could hear the dangerous hum of the lightsabre as it was swung around, and the occasional sparking impact of energy-blade-on-metal. The car itself resounded with several thumps as she climbed on top of the lift and readied herself.

"Brace yourself."

Another sparking impact and the lift free-fell for two floors, throwing Shane, Arkaan and the clone troopers to the floor once more. Again, they came to a bone-jarring stop, and Arkaan shook his head as he dragged himself to his feet.

Outside, Marcla's silver lightsabre swung a few more times before shutting off. Her head appeared in the doorway, hanging upside-down, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. She swung back into the car, hitting the deck with a loud clang and once again, her arm came up. This time, however, the doors blew out and travelled a long way down a corridor before eventually coming to a rest. She hopped off the lift car and into the corridor beyond, looking around for any signs of life.

"Maybe she is useful after all," muttered Arkaan.

The passageway was, as before, completely devoid of any sign of life, but it made the group no less wary. Marcla's lightsabre was the only weapon not held ready, and they made regular pauses to count their number and the trooper bringing up the rear spent half the time walking backwards. None of them spoke, preferring to keep their ears opens for any strange noises, but other than the odd creak and the occasional clunking sound in the distance, nothing could be heard out of the ordinary.

Their route took them on a winding tour of dead corridors and empty rooms, and with every area with no signs of life, the group became more and more disturbed.

"Where are we now?" asked Arkaan quietly, startling the group with his voice.

"Just below the gun-decks," replied Shane. "Next left should take us deeper into the ship and a few more corridors and we'll find the security checkpoint for engineering."

"Not far now then."

They took the next left, finding another long corridor with all the doors locked on either side. At the far end of the corridor, a light flickered, then shut itself off. The light in front of it switched off, then the one in front of that. In sequence, every light in the corridor shut itself off, making it appear as though the darkness was advancing towards them. Four spotlights appeared in the gloom, each illuminating a thin sliver of the corridor, and the lights swung around with the motion of their helmets.

"We've lost another trooper," announced Marcla.

The spotlights all swung inwards, and they counted each other, finding that the Jedi was correct, and that one of their number had disappeared once again.

"_Haar'chak_!" hissed Arkaan. "_Me'ven banar'la olar_?!"

"Speak Basic!" Shane hissed back.

"I don't care what he said," muttered Upchuck. "I just want to know what's going on."

"That's what I said," replied Arkaan. "I'm going to have to teach you _aruetiise_ to speak Mando'a."

"Maybe after we get out of here, sir."

"The only place we're going is engineering," growled Shane.

"With all due respect, sir," began the other remaining trooper, but Arkaan cut him off.

"He's right. If we take control of engineering, then we can see what's causing these problems and do what we can to stop them."

"Isn't it obvious?" shot back the trooper. "We're being hunted! The power outages I can put down to a lack of maintenance on a ghost ship, but now one of us has been torn apart and dumped in a turbo-lift, and another has disappeared! We need to rendezvous with General Hoday and get back to the _Iron Fist_, pronto!"

"Wait a second," said Upchuck. "If the General's on the bridge, shouldn't he be able to do something about this?"

"We can't get a hold of the General, so we can't rely on him at the moment, only ourselves. We get to engineering, and we find out what's going on."

"The further we go, the more we lose! Who's next? You? Me?"

"This isn't up for debate, _trooper_," said Shane, emphasizing the rank, a dangerous tone in his voice.

Before the trooper could respond, a low rumble made the deck vibrate beneath their feet. They all looked down, four spotlights illuminating four different parts of the floor. Marcla lifted her helmet and sealed it before taking her lightsabre off her belt and gripping it tightly.

A massive explosion tore through the corridor in front of them. One whole wall and a section of the ceiling just disappeared in an enormous fireball and the five of them were thrown down the passageway, pelted with debris as they went. Huge support beams dropped through the hole, followed by trolleys, desks and other bits of mangled equipment. Several huge artillery shells dropped in behind the support beams, clanging noisily as they went. The noise, however, was drowned out by the roar of escaping air. Some of the debris that had been blown down the corridor was suddenly sucked back up and out the hole, and Shane and Arkaan found themselves blown off their feet, followed by the two clone troopers.

As abruptly as it happened, the whistling air stopped, and the four men were dropped unceremoniously in a pile on the deck in front of the pile of rubble. The three clones scrambled up, Upchuck helping to pull Arkaan back onto his feet. The other trooper began running down the passageway as fast as he could, yelling incoherently. Shane leveled his Westar at his back, going into a slight crouch as he did so.

"Stop!" he called out. "Get back here, you _shab'la_ deserter, or I will shoot you down!"

His words had no effect and the trooper kept on running, arms waving wildly.

Shane squeezed the trigger.

A silver flash intercepted the blue bolt and disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Marcla lowered the lightsabre and extended her other hand, and the fleeing trooper found himself dangling in mid-air, his legs still cycling as if he was still trying to run, but his feet were no longer touching the deck.

Still twisting and turning, the trooper floated back down the corridor towards them and ended up suspended in mid-air in front of the diminutive Jedi. She reached up and stroked the front of his helmet, and the trooper went limp. She gently lowered him to the floor and placed him in the recovery position, putting his carbine beside his leg.

"Wake him back up, Marcla," said Arkaan. "We need to get out of here, right now."

"Why?" asked Shane.

Arkaan merely pointed to the haphazard pile of artillery shells behind the barricade. Shane knelt and threw the unconscious trooper over his shoulder and ran back down the corridor. The rest followed suit, with Upchuck pausing only to retrieve the carbine from the deck.

As they ran, a figure appeared beside Arkaan, and he turned to her angrily.

"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he growled. He'd turned his external speakers and comm off, meaning only he could hear his voice, but he knew that she'd be able to hear him.

"I'm not omnipotent, you know," she replied, not sounding a bit out of breath.

"You've warned me in the past about these kinds of things."

"Those were obvious dangers that you would've missed. Besides, no-one was hurt, were they?"

"That's not the point, and you know it."

"Oh, relax."

"Relax?! Someone's trying to _shab'la_ kill us! We've lost two of our troopers already, one of which was found in pieces!"

"Don't worry, Arkaan. Everything will be revealed in time."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Arkaan glanced to one side, but the figure had disappeared and he growled angrily beneath his helmet.

Ahead, Shane and Marcla had doubled back through another set of corridors, still running flat out. Despite having a fully-armoured trooper slung over one shoulder, Shane was still managing to keep ahead of the small Arkanian Jedi, and his superior knowledge of the ship's layout meant he unerringly guided them around the potentially lethal obstacle.

Flicking his comm back on, Arkaan was breathing heavily and found himself struggling to keep up with the super-fit clones.

"Stop," he wheezed. "Got to stop."

Marcla slowed, turning as she did so, waiting for Arkaan to catch up. As he did so, she slipped a hand under one of the armoured plates, laying a hand on the body-glove beneath and he found himself suddenly able to breathe. The pair ran like that for a few more minutes, their route taking them along more empty corridors until the corridors eventually opened up into a large area, with several different doors set into different walls. Two of the doors had a booth set next to them, and Shane stopped by one of them, lowering the unconscious trooper on his shoulder to the floor. Arkaan and Marcla stopped beside him, and the Jedi withdrew her hand. Arkaan found himself suddenly drained, and sat back against a wall to catch his breath.

"This door leads to engineering, and hopefully some answers," said Shane. "Wake him up, Jedi. You put him under, now bring him back. We need everyone alert and ready in case we find something we won't like on the other side of that door."

"As you wish," replied Marcla, bending to the task.

"Never heard of a trooper running before," said Arkaan.

"We're all men under this armour, Mandalorian," said Shane, his voice hardening. "We're not like the tinnies, blindly following our programming."

"Technically, we're all just following our genetic programming, but I'm not going to argue semantics with you. You got a plan for getting us past that door?"

"I was thinking about knocking and asking politely, sir."

"_Mir'sheb_."

"What?"

"You're a smart-ass, lieutenant. Does the map give locations of key consoles or anything else that might help us?"

"Not really, but a lot of what I've seen has been very similar to Acclamators like the _Iron Fist_. If the same holds true in there, then we should have no problems finding that we need."

On the floor in front of them, the unconscious trooper began to stir. Marcla had removed his helmet and had the fingers and thumb of one hand resting on either side of his forehead. The trooper raised himself into a sitting position, still with Marcla's hand on his head, and he blinked fiercely for a few seconds. Marcla removed her hand and gripped one of his hands, taking his pulse, before standing and nodding to Shane.

The ARC crouched in front of the trooper and removed his own helmet, staring into the trooper's eyes, his own hardened with barely contained anger.

"You're a coward, trooper, and a liability. The Jedi saved you before, but if you run again, I won't hesitate to shoot you down, do you understand me?" The trooper nodded, fear in his eyes. "Good. I need you up and active. Can you use your weapon?"

"Yes sir!"

"Then get up and fall in."

The pair of them stood, the trooper accepting Upchuck's hand in helping him up, and they both put their helmets back on. Upchuck gave him his carbine back, and the five of them stacked up against the door, Marcla standing off to one side, obviously unfamiliar with entry procedure.

Shane gave a silent countdown with his fingers, and, when his last finger fell, he activated the door.

Arkaan was first through, followed closely by Shane. The Mandalorian went immediately left, with the ARC moving right. The two troopers behind went straight in, carbines leveled.

What they found made them stop in shock, lowering their weapons slowly.

"I don't think it left the shipyards looking like this," said Marcla lightly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

"Sir, are we going to hide in a closet or at least try and link up with Colonel Arkaan?"

Hoday fixed Jaig with a glare, one hand still pressed to his ear, trying desperately to get a hold of the other party.

The group had found a set of emergency stairs and descended a few levels before Hoday found a small room. They'd paused in the room for several minutes whilst the Jedi tried unsuccessfully to raise anyone on the comm. Arkaan, the pilot of the gunship, Raysh and the _Iron Fist_ had all gone quiet, and coupled with the shutdown of the bridge, Hoday was beginning to get seriously worried, and it looked like the troopers around him were getting nervous too.

"We'd be best off linking back up with Arkaan and the others," he replied finally. "But I can't get hold of anyone."

"What's our next move then?" asked Jay.

"We head for the CIC. Like you said earlier, it's the most logical place for someone to do this from. We find them, and we get answers. I'm not leaving this ship until we _do_ get answers."

"Are you sure you want to find them, sir? Chances are they do _not_ want to meet us, and I'm not entirely sure I want to meet them either."

"You have your orders, Sergeant. Move out."

Jay tapped a few keys and Jaig found himself staring at a modified map of the _Indomitable_, another blue line leading into the heart of the ship. The sergeant flicked a few fingers and the troopers quickly stacked up on the door, opening it in a heartbeat and pushing through, securing the corridor beyond. Hoday and Jay followed closely behind, and they moved very quickly back to the bank of turbo-lifts.

Hoday looked up at the doors and held his finger over the call button. The group exchanged looks behind the Jedi's back as he paused.

"Sergeant," said Hoday after a while. "Where are the nearest stairs?"

"Back the way we came and across. It's a long way to go, General."

"Your men are fit and healthy, Jaig, I trust they'll take it in their stride."

Hoday turned and began walking back towards the room they'd been occupying. Jaig glanced at Jay and shrugged apologetically before moving after the Jedi.

The group spent what felt like weeks jogging down the stairs. The superstructure jutting up from the main body of the ship was usually accessed via turbo-lift, and for good reason. Hundreds of steps were hard-going, even for the clone troopers, trained since birth to be soldiers, and, not surprisingly, Jay found the going very tough. Jaig ordered one of the troopers to help him out, but even so, the group found themselves slowing down and sometimes stopping altogether so the flagging pair could keep up.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, and even Hoday, with his Force-enhanced stamina, was beginning to think that they should've risked taking the turbo-lift, when Jaig called a halt.

"We're not there yet, but we can't reach the CIC if we go any further down this stair-well."

"No more stairs," gasped Jay.

"How many more levels?" asked Hoday, ignoring the young man leaning against the wall.

"Only two, but we need to go through that corridor and take two lefts."

"Let me see the map."

Jay raised a shaking finger and tapped a few keys, sending the map to the Jedi, and it appeared next to Hoday's face inside his helmet.

"We're almost directly above it," said Hoday quietly after a few seconds studying the map.

With a snap-hiss, he ignited his lightsabre.

"Sergeant, check the corridor," he ordered.

Jaig extended an arm, and the troopers surrounded the hatchway separating them from the corridor. One of the troopers unlatched the door, unlocking it for the sergeant, and Jaig raised a foot and booted it open. The heavy door swung open and clanged against the wall beside the door as the sergeant and two troopers stormed into the corridor.

An empty but lit corridor greeted them, and Hoday and Jay stepped into the corridor.

"Thank you for that dramatic entrance, sergeant. Now it's my turn."

Hoday moved forward until he was standing about a third of the way down the corridor. His eyes flicked to the icon in his helmet for a second, then raised the lightsabre. Bringing it straight down, he stabbed it into the deck, moving it at an angle, sawing it through the deck until he'd cut a large circle. He extended a hand and the circular piece of deck floated into the air, away from the hole, the edges still glowing red. He deactivated his lightsabre and lowered the metal plug gently, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Jaig looked at the Jedi and shook his head.

"Check it."

Two of the troopers lay down on either side of the hole and poked their heads through, closely followed by their carbines.

"Clear," they called.

One of them swung themselves around and dropped down into the hole. Their comms clicked, and the rest of the troopers dropped through into the room below. Hoday and Jay lowered themselves down and looked around.

The troopers began to secure the room and check the entrances, but Hoday stopped them, reactivating his lightsabre. He raised it again, but paused upon seeing Jay. He turned and frowned at him, making Jaig and the other troopers turn to see what he was doing.

Jay had the gloved fingers of one hand pressed against the wall and had his helmet very close to the surface of the wall. He was moving his head, like he was reading something, but all the others could see was a blank wall.

"Jay?" said Hoday quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Just reading the walls. What language is this?"

"What language is what?"

"This!" exclaimed Jay, pointing to various different points on the blank, grey wall.

Hoday stepped up next to him and concentrated on the wall, running a finger over the surface. As his finger passed, something appeared beneath his fingers, but disappeared as soon as he looked more carefully at it. He swiped his hand over the wall again, and, for a split second, blood-red inscriptions appeared, runes he didn't recognise flashing up then disappearing before he'd even registered their existence, replaced by the purple-tinged grey, lit as it was by his lightsabre.

"I…" he stammered. "I can see it for a second, but then it goes. What do you see?"

"General, it's a blank wall," interrupted Jaig.

"Shut up, Jaig," snapped Hoday, and the clone sergeant stepped back, completely taken aback.

"I can't read it, but it's all over the walls. There's some streaks over here, like whoever painted it splashed some on the wall, and here, there's a drawing of…well, some kind of talisman, with stick figures surrounding it."

"Can your recognise the writing at all?"

"No, it's nothing like Aurebesh, and but it does look a bit like the Mando'a I've seen on Arkaan, Ori and Raven's armour, but there's too many differences."

Hoday blinked hard at the wall, and, like before, the script appeared before flickering away into nothingness.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he murmured.

"General, we need to get moving," said Jaig quietly.

Hoday turned and nodded at him, before pulling at Jay's arm.

"Come on, Jay. Take some still-shots with your visor and you can look back at them later."

Jay nodded and his helmet clicked a few times, until he turned back to the others. Two of the troopers were sharing uneasy glances beneath their helmets, but the looks went unnoticed by the Jedi and Jay. Having spent a lot of his life in a helmet, Jaig caught the looks, but ignored them, knowing full well that, had Raysh, Shane, or even one of the Mandalorians been there, he would've been giving them the same looks. But as the senior trooper in the group, it was down to him to maintain the morale of the troops, something a non-clone would find very difficult.

Hoday lifted the lightsabre again, but this time to fiddle with the controls on it. The group watched as the blade shrunk to only a few inches long, and, satisfied, Hoday crouched on the floor. Very carefully, he slid the blade into the floor, then dragged it around in a large, slow circle. When the circle was completed, Hoday withdrew the lightsabre and readjusted the blade back to full-length, then readied himself, crouching at the outside edge of the circle, one hand extended.

He looked up at Jaig, who, quickly understanding, placed his men around the edges of the circle, ready to jump down and secure whatever they found in the CIC. Jay stepped back, going down onto one knee, but kept his carbine ready.

Jaig raised a hand with three fingers up. Looking at Hoday, he slowly lowered them, one-by-one. As the last finger fell, Hoday flexed his arm, and the circle exploded downwards, the Jedi throwing the Force onto the weakened section with massive concussive force.

Jaig was first down, followed closely by one of the troopers. They immediately swept left and right as Hoday dropped down between them. The three of them spread out, giving the remaining troopers more room to jump down, and all four spread out in the low room, checking each corner. Jay lowered himself down carefully and stared at the walls surrounding them.

Red lights in each of the corners lent a very creepy air to the low, dark room, and the blue and green-tinged consoles around the room only added to the odd coloured gloom surrounding them. A table in the middle of the room had a faint holographic display of the local star-field hovering above it, and thick black cables snaked their way from jury-rigged ports in the display out through an open door.

But what caught the team's attention was what covered the walls between the consoles, the ceiling, and even the deck beneath their feet. Thick runic writings were on every surface they could see that wasn't taken up by equipment, and where there wasn't writing, there were primitive drawings depicting different scenes of worship and what looked like ritual sacrifices.

"Are you seeing this, Sergeant?" muttered Hoday. The added purple light of his lightsabre was throwing odd shadows, hiding some of the writing in the different shade of light.

"I can see them this time, sir," whispered Jaig.

"I told you!" said Jay, immediately sweeping his visor around and capturing as many still pictures as he could. The light from his spotlight illuminated various phrases and lines, and the troopers spread out, each trying to make sense of what they were seeing.

"It almost looks like blood," whispered one of the troopers.

Hoday pulled off his helmet and laid a hand on the wall, wiping it slightly. His hand came away and he looked at it, passing his thumb across his fingers.

"I think it is blood," he said quietly.

Immediately, the tension in the room rose, and the men took a step back from the walls, unconsciously gripping their carbines tightly. Jay stopped taking pictures and hefted his own carbine, looking around the room and at Hoday. The Jedi looked down at his feet, noticing the cables for the first time, and pointed them out to the troopers.

"Sergeant, these cables don't look like they belong. If we follow them, we should find who's in control."

Reluctantly, Jaig gave a few terse orders, and the troopers moved through the door, checking the corridor beyond. One of them gestured behind him, and the others moved into the corridor behind them.

Unlike the CIC, the corridor beyond was brightly lit, and its walls were mercifully clear of the suspiciously gruesome writings. On the wall immediately beside the door, a large single icon glowed balefully, but otherwise, there was no evidence of the creepy graffiti seen inside the CIC. The cables themselves were gathered into a bundle on one side of the corridor and continued down the length of the passageway until it snaked up the wall and into a hole in the ceiling.

The passageway ended in a T-junction, and Hoday indicated for the clone troopers to take the lead. Jaig stepped forward, with the troopers behind him, and Jay close behind.

Ahead, a white-armoured figure appeared and the group stopped, confused.

"Trooper!" called out Hoday.

The figure stopped and turned, a full-length DC15 rifle in his hands. Even from the distance they were from the figure, they could see something was wrong. The armour he was wearing was instantly recognizable to every person there, with only Hoday and Jay being the ones not intimately familiar with the plates and pouches the figure wore. The helmet, however, whilst similar, was different. Expecting to see the t-visored helmet the trooper all wore, the almost face-like white helmet of the figure gave them all pause, and the frowned head turned slowly to regard them.

"Trooper!" called out Hoday again. "Identify yourself!"

Instead of answering, the figure merely leveled the rifle and opened fire.


	13. Chapter 14

NOTE: I'm superstitious, hence the lack of a chapter 13, so don't worry, you haven't missed a chapter. Also, many thanks for the reviews, I appreciate them. Anyway, on with the story.

**Fourteen**

Captain Pell frowned at the console in front of him, and the ensign almost physically withered beneath his gaze. They'd watched on the view-screens as the gunship bearing the boarding party flew over the hull and paused in front of the superstructure, before disappearing into the dorsal hangar bay. A few transmissions had made it to them before being suddenly cut off, and the crew had spent the last few minutes trying to re-establish communication.

"Time check?" he called out for the fifth time.

"Eight minutes, fifteen seconds, sir."

It was approaching ten minutes since they'd last heard anything from General Hoday, and Pell was beginning to get seriously worried.

"Comms, do a full-spectrum sweep. Check for any kind of interference, jamming or transmissions of any kind."

"Sir, we already swept…"

"Sweep again!"

The lieutenant saluted and threw a few quick orders at the ensigns under him.

Pell knew they'd already swept the space around them when communication had first been lost, because he'd ordered the sweep. They'd found nothing, of any sort, which made the blackout even more disturbing. He could understand one or two comms going down due to power failure or a malfunction, but they hadn't been able to raise any of the boarding party. Arkaan, Jay, Shane, not even the sergeants were available.

"Scan shows negative across the board, sir. There's…nothing out there but our own transmissions. Sorry, sir."

Pell sighed. "Not your fault, lieutenant. Open a channel with Colonel Raven."

"Channel's open, sir."

"Colonel Raven? Captain Pell."

"Any news, captain?" said Raven. His voice came over the speakers very strongly, with the reverberating quality that only came from a microphone inside a helmet.

"We've lost all communications with the boarding party. I've had my men run multiple sweeps, but we can't find anything at all out there, no jamming, no transmissions of any kind."

"Could it have been an EMP?"

"We would've picked it up, and it probably would've hit us too, so no, it can't have been that. Look, as the commanding officer of this vessel, technically it's my decision on how to proceed, but I know that General Hoday values the advice of yourself and Colonel Arkaan. I want to hear what your thoughts are on the matter."

"Did Jaro leave any contingency instructions behind?"

"He just said to destroy the vessel if they weren't heard from in two hours."

"Well, it's up to you, captain. You can either wait until the two hours are up, or…you can do what I'd do."

"Which is?"

"Land another party with extra comms equipment and extra firepower, just in case, and keep a few full gunships on orbital stand-by with orders to storm the vessel if communications goes down again."

"Alright. Thank you, Colonel. I'll get back to you. Pell out."

The comm channel squawked as it was cut off, and Pell threw another glare at the lieutenant in charge of communications before turning to the main view-port. The _Indomitable_ hung there in the void just off to starboard, silent and unmoving, the sheer enormity making Pell feel almost inadequate. The Venator-class vessel dwarfed the _Iron Fist_, in terms of both size and firepower, and Pell was under no illusions as to who'd come out on top in a straight-up slugging match. The only reason he was confident in being this close to her was because the scans had come up negative for life-forms, which meant no crew. Automated systems taking over crew roles was coming on in leaps and bounds, but there was no way the Republic wanted to risk another disaster on the scale of the _Katana_ fleet. The Separatists may be relying on droids for the most part, but there were still organics making the key decisions, and it had kept them out of trouble so far.

Pell mulled it over. The lack of life in the scans could be indicative of a droid crew, but even so, there should have been at least a few organics on board to keep things on track. The scan hadn't picked up transmissions of any kind, and one of the first things they looked for nowadays was the command frequency of the Trade Federation battle droids, so that ruled out a command ship floating nearby.

He glanced up at the chronometer in one corner of the viewport. Over ten minutes had passed by now, and it was time to make a decision. He made to turn to the communications officer again when a flash outside caught his attention.

An explosion was blossoming on the port side of the hull, right beneath one of the Republic markings. Debris and pieces of equipment were blown out into space, glittering like confetti in the airless void between the two vessels. Pell's jaw dropped. The roiling explosion began to spread out from the ship, but was abruptly cut off as the emergency depressurization force fields cut in, leaving a ragged hole in the side of the ship. An enormous turbo-laser cannon, about the size of a tooth-pick to Pell, had come away from its tethers and began to float away from the ship, spilling shells and coolant as it went.

Pell span and began yelling orders.

"Battle stations! All troops to report to the hangar for immediate embarkation! Shields up! Guns, take your cannons off safe and make ready to fire on my mark. Comms, open a channel to Raven!"

"Captain?" Raven's voice echoed across the bridge.

"Something just exploded on the _Indomitable_. I've ordered an immediate call to battle stations. Suggestions?"

"Storm the ship. Right now. Throw everything we have at her hangars, and not just the one the boarding party entered through. Am I right in thinking there are bays on both sides?"

"Yes, we're seeing two hangar bays on either side of the vessel, forward of the wings, but their doors are closed."

"Then we do it the hard way and cut our way in if we have to. I'm launching the stand-by gunships now, Captain, get the rest of the troops behind me ASAP."

"Will do. Good hunting, Colonel."

"You too, Pell. Out."

"First gunships are launching now, sir," called out an ensign from across the bridge.

"Thank you. XO, make a note in the ship's log of what's happened and our actions in response. Then I want you to prepare a full report and prepare to transmit it to the Admiralty as soon as possible."

The bridge exploded into life around Pell, and he became the calm centre at the eye of a storm of uniformed crew, all rushing to their stations and carrying out their duties.

Various different read-outs appeared on the main view-port until Pell ordered them transmitted to the conference area to the rear of the bridge. He and his senior officers, minus the XO, took up stations around a holo display as damage reports on the _Indomitable_, readiness reports from around the _Iron Fist_ and a schematic of the _Fist_ with an overlay showing the status of their shielding all appeared in mid-air.

It was Pell's first true boarding action, and he fell back onto his training as he and his officers began organizing the logistics involved in getting the troops first on-board, then properly supported once they'd gained entry.

***

The gunship accelerated away from the hangar bay, hard, and Raven and the troopers inside found themselves hanging on for dear life.

"We don't know anything for sure," Raven shouted over the general comm channel. "All we know is, there's been a communications blackout from the ship since the General landed, and now there's been an explosion on board which has vented part of the ship into space. I don't know how you were trained, but I was always taught never to leave a _vod_ behind, and I don't intend to start now! We are going to storm that vessel and get our men back. We leave _no-one_ behind! _Oya_!"

A roar greeted his words and the occupants of the gunship had to hold on again as the pilot threw them into a set of maneuvers, as though the pilot was trying to make them vomit. The deck beneath their feet vibrated even worse than before as the pilot red-lined the engines, and then lurched as the gunship dropped.

Raven staggered towards the cockpit and climbed up beside the co-pilot so he could get a look at the tactical display on the screen set into the co-pilot's station. Dozens of dots were immediately visible in the space surrounding their gunship, and Raven nodded, satisfied that the mini-invasion was under-way. He pressed a hand to the side of his helmet and opened a comm channel to the _Iron Fist_.

"Pell? Raven here."

"Go ahead, Colonel."

"Any sign of the shielding on the _Indomitable_?"

"Nothing yet, but that can change."

"Target their shield generators, take them out before they get a chance."

"Already on it. Guns should be firing any second."

True to his word, several enormous bolts of light overtook the gunship and Raven craned his neck to watch the turbo-laser blasts converge and impact on several specific points on the hull of the grey-and-red vessel. Tiny explosions flared in the distance before being quickly snuffed out by the lack of oxygen in the vacuum.

"You definitely hit something, Captain," reported Raven. "We're heading in to take the dorsal hangar now. Concentrate on the port-side hangar, I'll co-ordinate things once we've secured a beach-head and are inside."

He switched off his comm before a reply could be transmitted. Above him, the co-pilot manipulated some of the controls and the gunship vibrated again as several rockets loosed themselves from the pods above the wings. A thrumming beneath their feet announced the composite beam turrets either side of the cargo bay firing and Raven looked up out of the cockpit.

The gunship was one of a dozen hovering just above the dorsal hangar doors, and every single one was concentrating their fire on the point where the gunship carrying General Hoday and his troops had last been seen entering the _Indomitable_. Hundreds of rockets and blaster-, laser- and composite bolts poured into the continuous fireball, and Pell must have ordered one of the guns of the _Iron Fist_ to lend them some firepower, as a few enormous blasts sailed past the gunships to detonate spectacularly on the hangar door.

Raven called a cease-fire, and the rate of fire slackened, before finally stopping altogether. The fireball disappeared, and through the debris, the door itself was caved in, with several large holes having been punched clean through the armour.

The gunships, seeing the way cleared, moved in, swooping down low along the hull, hoping to avoid the worst of the debris field. As they approached and got closer, their on-board computers automatically transmitted IFF codes and the doors themselves, with a torturous groan, began to heave themselves open.

"_Shab_!" exclaimed Raven. "Look at that! Take us in! Let the other gunship knows to transmit their codes to get the doors to open!"

The co-pilot moved to obey whilst the pilot dropped them into the hangar proper and through the force-field holding the atmosphere in. Four other gunships followed them in, whilst others moved up and down the length of the dorsal entry to secure multiple beach-heads.

Now that the gunship was within an atmosphere, the firing of the composite beams and the gunships anti-personnel blaster cannons was almost deafening. The pilot brought the gunship around and almost skidded it along the deck before pulling it to a stop. Several impacts on the door beside Raven reverberated around them, making him recoil.

"Hot LZ!" called out the co-pilot. "We can't stay here for long!"

"Open the damn doors!" yelled back Raven.

The troopers surrounding him already had their weapons ready and were just waiting to be released. With a roar, the doors flew backwards and they began to jump out.

Before the doors had fully retracted, half of the troopers were instantly cut down by incoming fire. A wall of blue bolts took out the front row of troopers waiting to disembark, and Raven found himself tumbling out of the gunship, a glancing blow having thrown him to one side.

A roar over the commlink told him that Orikih had run into similar difficulties.

Something told Raven that what was supposed to be a simple boarding action had turned into something much, much more.


	14. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Blue blaster bolts lanced towards Hoday and his lightsabre snapped on as he went into auto-pilot. The purple blade swept up and batted bolts into the walls beside him. One of the troopers went down, winged by one of the bolts and the rest dived for cover into doorways.

Before they could return fire, an explosion threw them all to the floor, including the rogue trooper that had opened fire. The rumbles echoed through the corridor, but no flames appeared, something for which Hoday was very grateful. He made to pull himself back up to his feet, but instinct forced him to stay on one knee, ducking his head down.

Behind him, a carbine spat fire, throwing a burst of blue down the corridor. Ahead of them, the figure was already rising to his feet, using his rifle as a crutch. The bolts intercepted him, blowing his chest-plates open and throwing him against the wall. His helmet drooped and he lay still.

Hoday turned to see Jay lowering his carbine and extending his hand, indicating Jaig should move up. Without hesitating, the sergeant leapt up, his own arms moving to push his troopers up to secure the body and the corridor. They moved quickly, calling back to Hoday and Jay that it was clear, and the pair moved up to examine the body.

"Now to find out what the _haran_ is going on here," muttered Jaro.

Jaig and Jay both glanced at him in surprise at his use of Mando'a, but the Jedi completely ignored them, putting a hand on the dome of the helmet of the body in front of him and pushing it up so he could get a closer look.

"You ever seen anything like this?" he asked.

"It's similar to mine," said Jaig, crouching next to Hoday. "But like it's been changed, given eyes or something. And what are these?"

The sergeant traced a finger along the tubular bottom edge of the helmet before rotating it to get a better look at the back and sides of it. The indentations on the cheeks of the helmet were more pronounced than on his own, and the off-shoots at the bottom of the visor looked a lot more like a frown, giving the helmet something like a stylized face.

Jay, standing over the pair, shook his head at the body before turning his attention to the cables, tracing their route into the ceiling and trying to see where they went from there.

Hoday reached forward and tugged off the helmet, spinning it over in his hands and peering inside at the workings. Around him, the troopers all recoiled, Jaig staggering backwards and falling back onto his hands. Hoday looked up at the troopers with a questioning look before looking back at the body.

He stood quickly, dropping the helmet and taking a step back.

Instead of the familiar tanned olive skin and dark black hair of the clone troopers he was used to, the head of the dead trooper was shriveled and grey, with sunken cheeks and his skin a mass of wrinkles and scars. What little hair there was on his head was patchy and grey, and the skin on scalp was raw, with red patches and flakey skin.

Jay turned to see what the fuss was about and recoiled as well, pressing himself against the wall and gasping.

"He looks like a corpse," he whispered.

"What could've caused this?" asked Jaig, looking at Hoday.

"I have no idea," replied the Jedi, shaking his head. "This could be the effect of time travel, if it turns out Jay is correct."

"Could it be a virus?"

"If it is, it's no virus I've ever seen. And that doesn't tell us why he opened fire when I challenged him."

"It could be space dementia."

"I don't think so. The log doesn't mention that they were in hyperspace for that long."

"The log doesn't say how long they were drifting here by the nebula in our time," said Jay quietly.

His simple statement silenced the group, who merely stared at the body before them.

After a few minutes, Hoday moved away, glancing back at the body for a second before moving back towards the cables.

"Strip the body of ammo. Leave the rations, only take his power packs."

One of the troopers knelt to the task and Jaig moved over to see to the trooper that had been winged. Other than a scorch-mark on his shoulder-bell, the trooper was fine, but the general consensus was that he'd have a nasty bruise there for the next few days.

Meanwhile, Jay had torn his gaze away from the body and was looking back up into the ceiling. Hoday joined him, and they both began to reach up to pry away the ceiling panels, trying to see where the cables led. They ended up removing parts of ceiling leading to the right of the body, and following the cable all the way along the corridor. The cables then disappeared up another passageway, and the pair stopped and made their way back to the small knot of white armoured troopers.

"The cables seem to go deeper into the ship, and I want to follow them," said Hoday.

Jaig nodded, pulling the strange helmet off his head and replacing his own back onto his head.

"Alright. Form up, troops. What do we do about the body, sir?"

"Leave it here. Nothing we can for him. How's the helmet?"

"Very similar to my own," replied the sergeant, gesturing to the helmet on the floor. "A lot of the functions appear to have been improved."

"Clone troopers from the future," muttered Jay, crouching over the cables on the floor with his arm extended and datapad screen active, as though scanning them.

"Take the helmet with us. I want the techs to fully examine it."

One of the troopers picked it up, and with some modification of his belt, managed to clip it so it hung over his right buttock. Hoday, meanwhile, had moved beside Jay and was watching what he was doing.

"I'm not getting any readings," said Jay, confusion evident in his voice. "There's nothing showing up. No power readings, no energy of any kind, no nothing."

"Do you recognise the material used?"

"Sort of looks like rubber, but it feels…wrong, somehow. I don't know."

Hoday knelt and laid a hand on one of the cables, closing his eyes as he reached out with the Force. A frown creased his face, and he opened his face, looking down at the thick black cabling.

"I can't feel anything either, but it's strange."

"Why? Some sort of Force-inert material?"

"It's not like, it's…it's like I'm being blocked somehow, like some sort of Force-jamming. I've never felt anything like it."

"Do you think it could be Sith magic?"

Hoday looked down at Jay in astonishment.

"How do you know about the Sith?"

"I used to want to be a Jedi when I was a kid," said Jay sheepishly, studiously avoiding Hoday's gaze. "I did a lot of research into it and found out some things I probably shouldn't have."

"Not many know about the Sith, and for good reason. We don't exactly advertise their existence, because we don't want every nutcase in black clothes and a wand claiming to be a Sith and trying to kill Jedi."

"Yeah, I understand."

Hoday sighed. "I'm not sure what this is, and to a certain extent, I'm not sure I want to know."

Unseen by the troopers, the Jedi pulled a flask off his belt, unscrewed the top and took a long swig from the contents. Being in close proximity, Jay could smell the strong alcohol contained within and covered his reaction by turning off the 'pad in his arm. In one smooth practiced motion, Hoday returned it to his belt and retrieved his lightsabre.

"Right. Let's find out where these cables lead."

***

The engine above them created an almost curved ceiling, with scaffolding and walkways surrounding it like a half-built construction site. Consoles and work-stations were littered throughout the room, with thick cabling snaking their way from each station to cut-outs in the flooring and walls. Several of the consoles were still alight, their screens glowing dully in the low light, and a low hum filled the air.

But what really caught Shane and Arkaan's attention was the blood-red writing covering every inch of the engine housing. Above the main engineering pit, where the main diagnostic and administrative functions were performed, a single, massive sigil was somehow glowing at them from where it was painted on the cowling of the engine. Surrounding it were hundreds of smaller glyphs and runes, branching out and spreading to cover the dull metal, and some of the lines of text glowed, whilst others were barely visible.

The floor beneath them was mercifully clear, but a lot of the consoles from which the cables sprouted were covered in more text, and, in the distance, some of the walls they could see also had lines of text scrawled up and down the metal.

Arkaan lowered his rifle and walked towards the main workstation, stepping over black cabling and discarded tools as he did so. The group followed, Shane keeping his Westar leveled warily and Marcla blinking rapidly around her, as though confused about something.

Instead of activating the consoles in front of him, Arkaan knelt at the console and ran a gloved hand over the writing. He reached up and tugged off his helmet, setting it down beside him and peering closely at the writing.

"Impossible," he whispered.

"What?" said Shane, crouching down beside him.

"This text…I think it's an ancient form of Mandalorian script."

"How can you tell?"

Arkaan picked up his helmet and pointed to some small lettering stenciled onto the painted beskar, then pointed to the scripting on the console.

"See the similarities? It's a lot more runic than the modern script on my _buy'ce_, but there's definite similarities."

"There's some Aurebesh in there too," said Shane, pointing to some other text below Arkaan's fingers.

"You're right. It looks like a mix of the two."

"There's more than just Mando'a and Aurebesh in there," said Marcla from behind them, leaning forward and pointing with a clawed finger to different pieces of text. "There. Rodian text. And there, Huttese. That's Nubian text, and that, that's Sith text."

"Sith text?" asked Shane, looking up at her.

"Old enemies of the Jedi. A lot of my people have worked for them in ancient times, very nasty if you cross them. Why would there be lots of different styles of text?" said Arkaan, frowning and looking at the different consoles around them.

"The Sith text appears to run through all the text," said Shane. "Look. Your old Mandalorian text, followed by some Sith writing, then some Huttese, then some more Sith text."

"He's right."

Marcla had moved towards another console and was crouched in front of it, hands spread on the surface, her eyes darting from one line of text to another. Arkaan stood and looked over her shoulder, nodding to himself.

"What is this?" he whispered to himself. "Why all the different text? And why here?"

"I'm not sure finding the answer will do us any good," said Marcla, standing and turning so she was facing him. "Anything to do with the Sith is something to be avoided or destroyed at the first opportunity."

"No offence, but you're a Jedi. You've sworn to destroy the Sith and have fought them hundreds of times in the past. You wouldn't know the first thing about true Sith and how they operate, so don't give me all the propaganda _osik_."

"And I suppose you have?"

"Not personally, but do you really think Mandalorians would've worked with them so many times in the past if they were all about destruction and taking over the galaxy?"

"All you Mandalorians care about is credits and glory."

Arkaan smiled at her and bent to retrieve his helmet. He put it back onto his head, tapping the dome and crossed his arms.

"You don't know the first thing about Mandalorians, _jetii_, so don't even try."

"Maybe I know more than you think," Marcla whispered, getting as close as she could and almost pressing her nose against his visor.

Shane's laughter made the pair of them turn to look at him, and the ARC clapped a hand on both of their shoulders.

"Are you two gonna screw already?" he said, still chuckling as he did so. "Marcla, his kind have been killing yours for millennia, and I know for a fact that he's got several lightsabre trophies that he didn't get by just asking. So I'd take a step back before trying to threaten him or get one up."

"I'm a good cook, too," added Arkaan.

Marcla snorted and took a step back, shaking her head.

"I don't believe any of that for a second," she said quietly as she walked away.

"None of this getting us any closer to figuring out what's going on," said Upchuck, and the trio turned to look at him in surprise. "This place gives me the creeps, and the sooner we're out of here, the better."

Before anyone could reply, the deck beneath their feet rumbled and distant explosions echoed through the walls. The group froze, bracing themselves for another explosion closer to them, but when none came and the other explosions died down, they relaxed.

"What was that?" asked Upchuck quietly.

"Probably those shells going off from earlier," said Arkaan, but they could tell from his voice that he wasn't convinced.

"Where do these cables go?" piped up the other trooper, running his hands over them.

"Good question," said Shane, looking up and following them with his eyes.

The majority of the cables seemed to lead in one direction, both through several different doors and cutting through the walls and floor in the same direction. From all over the engine room, the cables sprouted from the massive engine itself, consoles and workstations and all converged at a point a few meters from their position, before the thick mass of cables led off into the semi-darkness towards open doors and holes in the wall.

Arkaan pointed in the direction the cables were going and stepped in that direction.

"I guess we go this way."


	15. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

Raven crawled out from behind a set of crates and grabbed the belt of a clone trooper who'd fallen and dragged him back behind cover. A few blaster shots spanged off the deck beside him and he rolled back over, the trooper now safely behind the crates. Another trooper behind him began pulling off plates and starting working on the downed clone, one hand reaching into a bag slung at his side whilst the other probed the wound.

The remaining troopers that Raven had under his command were spread in a thin line across the hangar bay, using crates and whatever else they could get their hands on to create a broad semi-circle around one of the LAAT/i gunships they'd arrived in. The gunship itself had been disabled early on, crashing into the hangar deck and killing several troopers, as well as both turret gunners. The pilot and co-pilot were working desperately to get the turrets back on-line, but with the sheer volume of incoming fire, they weren't making much headway.

Across from them, consoles and more crates hid their enemy. What little they'd glimpsed of them seemed to suggest they were fighting their own kind, and the blaster fire they were pinned under only served to reinforce that notion. Doorways and cargo lifts were jammed open, and several strange-looking fighters with enormous wings and engines had been pushed into the space between the two groups. Every available piece of cover had some white armour and a black rifle poking out from it, and the air was filled with the burnt ozone stench of blaster discharge.

Raven rolled to one side and got up onto his knees and activated his comm. Over it, he could hear several officers and Ori trying to organize a counter-offensive in one of the other hangars. He wasn't sure which one, but knew that wherever he was, the Wookiee was too far away to be of any use.

Calling out a few orders, Raven determined how many grenades and how much ammunition they had left, before distributing it around evenly amongst the troopers. He knew his only chance was to go on the offensive, or sheer attrition would be their undoing. If they didn't get moving soon, they'd be no use to Arkaan and Hoday, which was the whole reason they were on-board in the first place.

"Cover!" he yelled, and fully half of the troopers left raised themselves over the barricades and opened fire, peppering the enemy troops and opposing barricades with blue fire. Several of the troopers stood and lobbed grenades as well.

Raven barely waited for the grenades to explode before charging out of cover, moving before the grenades had exploded. His head down, he moved as fast as he could, blaster bolts flying past his helmet. The grenades exploded, sending crates and bodies flying, and the incoming fire slackened significantly.

Vaulting a barricade, Raven landed feet first on a white-armoured enemy trooper. He put a burst into the face-plate of the helmet before immediately looking up and firing on the other two troopers behind the barricade. A black rifle swung beside him and caught him on the side of the helmet, throwing him to one side and onto his back. The rifle swung again, descending almost too quickly to see, and Raven barely got his head out of the way in time. His own rifle came up, and he opened fire at point-blank range into the trooper trying to kill him, blasting apart his chest-plate before the body collapsed on top of him, trapping his rifle between them.

Beside him, friendly troopers arrived, firing on anything they could see. Enemy troopers fell back before the onslaught, dozens of bodies, both friendly and otherwise, hitting the deck with every second. Blue fire filled the air, ricocheting from walls and the floor, creating a chaotic neon lattice-work around them as they fought. With the distance closed so rapidly, many of the fighting degenerated into close-quarters combat, rifles and carbines swinging. Several of the 78th troopers had attached their knives to the barrels of their rifles and were using them to lethal effect, the blades finding weak points and spattering blood all over their white armour.

A sergeant appeared above Raven and pulled the body off from on top of him before offering the Mandalorian his hand. He accepted, using the clone as leverage to pull himself back onto his feet. He looked around, assessing the situation, before shaking himself off and raising his rifle.

His arm came up to begin calling out orders when something large and on four legs came flying out of a doorway beside him. It seemed to shrug and something lanced out from its bulk, impaling two troopers before disappearing, and then it was moving again. Raven caught a glimpse of yellow, baleful eyes, huge teeth and several waving tentacle-like appendages before it flashed past, and a trooper exploded into a bloody mist.

Raven began yelling and opened fire, spraying blaster bolts towards the blur, and the sergeant beside him joined him, firing from the hip with his rifle.

Several bolts hit home, sending black gore into the air, and the shape stopped and turned to regard them with hate-filled eyes. It looked like an enormous quadruped, with four massive limbs and thick muscles rippling beneath black skin. Enormous eyes stared at them from a small face above a mouth filled with teeth, and a tail split four ways cracked through the air in four different ways.

The pair recoiled in horror before opening fire again, hitting the animal several times in the legs before it was moving again, leaping through the air towards them and piercing their eardrums with an unnatural roar. It flew past them, landing behind Raven and spinning quickly as he tracked it with his rifle.

Beside him, the sergeant made to turn before collapsing into three different parts. Raven began to squeeze the trigger of his weapon to fire again, but a fizzling sound made him look down and he looked on in shock as it sparked and hissed at him in two pieces. He dropped them and pulled out his sidearm, pointing it at the animal and opening fire again, spitting red blaster fire at the animal as it leaped again.

Time slowed for Raven as it sped towards him. Every detail of the things mouth became starkly visible, every detail disturbingly clear to him and he desperately squeezed round after round into it, the pistol bucking in his hand, pumping as many shots into it as he could. The front legs, bristling with razor-sharp claws, raised as it got closer, and Raven began to duck, punching upwards with his left arm. From a recessed compartment in his gauntlet, a blade shot out and he buried it into the face of the oncoming creature.

They fell into a tumbling mess onto the floor, Raven stabbing again and again as fast as he could, whilst the monster on top of him did the same with all four parts of tail. Tipped with an extremely sharp talon, all four slammed into Raven over and over, sometimes glancing off the _beskar_ of his armour, but most slicing straight through the reinforced cloth beneath.

The Mandalorian screamed as the tails stabbed deep into his flesh, and he began stabbing even more furiously than before. He curled himself up, bringing his knees up and smashing them into the heavily muscled flanks of the creature, but to no avail.

In desperation, he flicked open his comm again and began calling out, all the while stabbing away and doing everything he could to get the thing from on top of him.

***

Orikih roared and the troopers surrounding him rose as one, silently crossing the distance across the eerily quiet hangar bay with ease. With smooth, practiced motions, they opened and cleared each doorway, moving swiftly through the rooms beyond and into the heart of the ship. Orientating themselves with a quick check of a side-console, the troopers split into two groups; one to push towards the dorsal hangar bays to link up with Raven's troops, and another, smaller group to secure the flight control room for the hangar, and it was with this last group that Orikih attached himself.

They soon found themselves in a large room dominated by a window looking into the hangar bay itself. Consoles and workstations lined the walls, and the screens flashed with diagnostic messages and lists of bays and what vessels were occupying them. Thick cables led from several of the larger work-stations into a large hole in the ceiling, and a red light in the corner blinked on and off intermittently.

The troopers quickly moved to the consoles and began pulling up as much data as they could. Orikih, meanwhile, was looking curiously at the cables, pulling off his massive helmet so he could sniff them. As he did so, his comm crackled in his ear.

"Contact, request immediate reinforcement."

Orikih turned and picked up his helmet and jamming it back on whilst the sergeant in charge of the group in the control centre ordered two troopers to remain behind and the rest of them to move off.

Before any of them could move, the two consoles currently occupied by troopers exploded, sending their users flying across the room, and the door to the room slammed shut. The troopers immediately moved to the pair of clones that had been sent flying, but it was obvious that neither had survived the explosions, and they turned their attentions to the door.

They found themselves pushed out of the way by the enormous Wookiee and watched in astonishment as he unsheathed massive claws and buried them into the metal, cutting into it easily and scoring lines up and down the grey surface. Sheathing his claws again, Orikih swung his arms and punched the door with all his might. The metal bent, but didn't yield, and Orikih swung again, battering the door until it lay in tatters at his feet.

He stepped through, grunting at the remains and began to jog towards the troops involved in the fight. Behind him, clone troopers dashed to keep up, running full pelt to keep the Wookiee in sight. From several meters behind him, they watched in amazement as a four-legged creature appeared from a side-room and slammed into the Wookiee, bowling him over.

Orikih roared, pulling a sword out from a sheath on his back and swinging it mightily, slicing it through two tails that appeared to be sprouting from the behind of the creature. It keened loudly in pain before leaping at Orikih again, and he brought the blade up, impaling it and slamming it onto the deck. The Wookiee withdrew the blade and brought it down again, hard, severing two muscled limbs and spraying the walls with black gore and liquid.

It scrabbled around on the floor, biting impotently at the air in Orikih's direction before the Wookiee stabbed down with the sword, spearing it through the head. It stopped moving, suddenly going limp, and Orikih drew the sword out from the body of the beast, muttering under his breath. He wiped the blade on its skin before returning it to the ornately decorated scabbard hanging on his back.

"Have you ever seen anything like that before, Sarge?" muttered one of the troopers.

"Nope. Keep moving."

The group moved off again at a run, dashing through long corridors and following the sound of blaster-fire until they found themselves in the middle of a furious fire-fight across a huge mess-hall, over-turned tables and benches being used as make-shift cover by both sides. Confusingly, there appeared to be clones in white armour firing towards the friendly forces, and the newly-arrived group immediately dove into cover.

"Sir!" called out a clone with the markings of a lieutenant on his armour, and Orikih turned to him. "We encountered a group of troopers retreating through his mess hall. When challenged, they opened fire without warning."

Orikih turned back to the group opposing them, took one look and roared a challenge. He drew his sword one more time and without hesitation, charged across the hall.

Blaster bolts flew around him, and some even hit him, bouncing off his armour, but they barely slowed the Wookiee, not even registering the impacts as he charged. Behind him, bemused clone officers immediately ordered covering fire and organized a follow-up charge.

Ahead, the Wookiee lay into the enemy clones with an unstoppable fury, his _ryyk_ blade decapitating and dismembering anyone unfortunate enough to come within his not-insubstantial reach. His gold armour became spattered with crimson blood, and his helmet became drenched in gore as he head-butted another beast that appeared at the far end of the room. Every limb of the Wookiee turned into a weapon as he flailed about in a seemingly uncoordinated fury where every move landed a devastating blow.

The troopers under his command quickly found themselves mopping up the remaining enemy troopers, and one squad managed to herd the wounded beast into a corner and filled it with blaster bolts until all that was left was a smoking ruin.

Orikih raised his blade and roared, receiving a roar from the troops with him in return, and another roar sent them chasing after him as he charged through a door-way, heading for the dorsal hangar bay. The troopers found themselves fighting to keep up as the Wookiee set a furious pace, destroying any opposition on the way with a few swings of his sword. Several times, the troopers had to clear themselves a path through heaps of dead bodies, and more than a few walls were covered in blood-drenched splinters of bone and armour.

As they passed a security checkpoint leading to the gun-decks, their commlinks clicked open, and a desperate voice began screaming for help, filling their helmets with anguished cries, and Orikih, already storming ahead almost out of sight, renewed his efforts to reach the besieged group.

A locked door greeted them just outside their destination and they watched as Orikih set about destroying it and ripping the door from the frame. Two officers took another group armed with explosives to entrances further down the corridor, and the two groups finally emerged into the hangar at the same time.

What they found was a scene of carnage.

Bodies were heaped all over the deck, with most bearing obvious scorch-marks of blaster-fire, but along one wall, behind a set of barricades, blood coated almost every surface, and body parts were scattered in all directions. A small knot of white armoured figures were engaged in furious close-quarters combat in one corner, and a group detached themselves to reinforce their own troops, whilst the rest followed Orikih towards the blood-soaked barricades.

A red helmet bounced along the deck towards them, stopping by Orikih's foot. He knelt and picked it up, and everyone around him recognised the familiar T-visored Mandalorian helmet belonging to Raven. Orikih rotated it in his grasp and something fell out of the hole at the bottom. Troopers jumped back in horror as Raven's lifeless eyes stared up at them and several pulled their helmets off, the Wookiee's anguished scream threatening to destroy their ears.

Uncontrollable rage gripped Orikih, and he cried again, causing a beast in front of them to pause in systematically dismembering Raven's body and stare at the huge gold-and-black armoured Wookiee. The two locked eyes, and every trooper behind Orikih moved away as quickly as they could, spreading out on the pretence of securing the area, despite the remaining enemy troopers having been dealt with and survivors being found and questioned.

With another roar, Orikih charged, dropping his sword and unsheathing his claws as he ran. Amongst the Wookiee race, using your claws as a weapon was an absolute taboo, with any who unsheathed their claws in anger being labeled a 'mad-claw' and either being shunned from Wookiee society or exiled altogether from their home planet of Kashyyyk, but the sight of his friend's body being desecrated in such a way had driven Orikih over the edge, and all he could think through the red mist of anger was how best to utterly destroy this beast.

The beast leapt up at the same time, running forwards and extending its quad-tails in a fan behind it, massive limbs pumping and saliva being flung in all directions from the tooth-filled mouth.

The two met in a crash, the beast's tail scoring a bloody line through the fur on Orikih's upper left arm. With the other arm, Orikih punched the beast in the head as hard as he could, his claws gouging black lines across one eye. Blood already oozing from deep craters in the creature's face splashed onto Orikih's helmet, spattering gore across his helmet and obscuring his vision.

Crashing to the ground, Orikih slammed a fist into the beast's face again, using his claws to rip several teeth out. The tail lanced out, punching deep into the Wookiee's side, making him flinch and scream in pain. Bringing his legs around, Orikih buried a knee into the beast's gut, making it grunt, and it slashed out with a pair of legs, scoring deep marks in the metal of his breast-plate.

Orikih released the animal for a second, ripping off his helmet, and before it could recover, smashed the helmet into its head, making it squeal and jerk. The Wookiee hit it again with his helmet, battering the beast as hard as he could.

Around him, the troopers watched as the Wookiee vented his anger on the beast. It was obvious the creature was dead, but none of them knew how to stop him, and even if they did, they all knew that none of them would. Losing a comrade wasn't easy, especially for as long as Orikih and Raven had known each other.

So they watched as Orikih covered himself and the closest wall in black blood and gore, leaving him to his anger and grief.


	16. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

A large, heavily armoured door hissed open, and Arkaan and Shane moved through immediately, Upchuck and the other trooper on their heels. Marcla, still looking as though she hadn't a care in the world, moved through behind them, looking all around her. They stopped almost as soon as they'd entered, keeping their weapons ready but looking on in astonishment at the sight in front of them.

The wall beside the door they'd entered through had a hole cut in it, through which the cables they'd seen were fed, and once through the wall, they were strung across the massive room on makeshift brackets spot-welded to walkways and walls.

In front of them, the enormous room was dominated by the rounded power core of the vessel. Gantries and walkways created several different levels to the room, and cables appeared from walls and doorways all around the room, on all different levels, all leading to an enormous console set into the main wall of the power core itself.

Set in front of the console, a tall, thin, rough stone obelisk was connected to the console by a bundle of thin wires, each one plugged into what looked like tiny sigils and runes, hundreds of which covered every inch of the rough-hewn stone. Like the writing seen on the walls of the engine room, they were a dark red colour, but unlike the other writing they'd seen, the writings on the obelisk glowed dully, as though there was a light-source within the stone itself. The grey stone itself seemed to glow as well, casting an almost sickly glow on the railings and gantries surrounding it. It stood roughly two meters tall and was very thin, being only a few inches wide at the most.

But what caught the group's attention wasn't the obelisk.

Arrayed on the walkway in front of the obelisk were rows of clone troopers standing with their weapons across their chests, all in perfect rows in a semi-circle surrounding the obelisk. None of the white-armoured soldiers were moving, almost looking like statues in the dim light, and as the group moved closer, there was no visible reaction whatsoever from the silent sentinels.

Despite their misgivings, Shane led them closer to the unmoving guards, his Westar rifle held unwaveringly in front of his chest, ready to open fire at a moment's notice. Upchuck and the other trooper moved forward behind him, whilst Arkaan fell into step beside Marcla.

The Arkanian Jedi had begun to stumble and shake her head as though trying to clear it, and Arkaan frowned at her, not sure of exactly what to do.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Feeling a bit dizzy," she replied, rubbing her forehead with a clawed hand. "My head has gone slightly fuzzy, like it's full of cotton wool."

"Sounds like a hangover if you ask me," said Arkaan with a wry smile.

Ahead, Shane reached the first row of troopers and stopped, staring into the black eye-slit visor of the trooper standing directly in front of him.

"Trooper," he said loudly. "Why aren't you wearing your issue helmet?"

Silence met his question, and he leaned forward, putting his own visor within inches of the trooper in front of him.

"I asked you a question, _trooper_, and you _will_ answer."

A low wind swept through the core room, and all of them turned their heads to listen as whispering voices seemed to surround them. Marcla looked up, a frown creasing her alabaster face, and she reached out a hand to the nearest railing to steady herself.

Suddenly, the ranks of troopers shifted, creating a clear walkway straight to the obelisk, before freezing again.

Upchuck looked around uneasily, and the other trooper looked over the edge of the railing to see if he could spot anything below them. Arkaan stepped up beside Shane, and the pair of them took a few hesitant steps into the trooper-made aisle.

From behind the obelisk, a figure in dark robes appeared and walked towards them, stopping a few meters away from them and raising his hands towards them.

"Are you the One?" it rasped at them.

Arkaan and Shane looked at each other for a second before turning back to the figure.

"I'm the One," they both said at the same time.

Arkaan looked at Shane.

"I'm the One, not you," he said.

"No, I'm the One!"

"Oh come on, you're wearing a skirt, how can you be the One?"

"I'm bigger than you, and younger."

"Yeah, but I'm a better cook."

The figure raised his arms again and the silent ranks of troopers all turned inwards to face the arguing pair. They stopped, looking around them suspiciously.

"You are pretenders. You must die."

The room suddenly exploded into lethal movement.

***

"Did you hear that?"

Sergeant Jaig raised an arm, stopping the group, and he turned back to Hoday.

"I don't hear anything, sergeant," replied the Jedi, his head cocked to one side as he strained to listen to whatever it was the clone sergeant had heard.

"I hear it," said Jay, his eyes glazed over as he concentrated. "It's like a whispering, in lots of different languages, but just when you think you might be able to understand it, it changes or gets quieter."

The troopers behind Jaig all nodded in agreement, and Hoday frowned.

Since they'd turned into this corridor, still following the bunch of cables now visible above their heads, strapped in by a crude metal bracket attached to the ceiling, Hoday had begun to get a headache, and now his head felt like someone had drilled a hole in it and stuffed foam into it.

"I can't…I can't hear anything. Can't feel anything through the Force either," he said, rubbing his forehead. "Let's keep moving. Where are we?"

"Just outside the power core," said Jay, consulting the map projected onto the inside of his helmet. "It's just through there, and it looks like the cables are leading there too."

Ahead, a huge circular door barred their path, with a security check-point in front. As they approached, the door clunked and hissed before sliding open. Sounds of battle were immediately audible from inside the chamber beyond and they hurried inside, weapons raised, and were greeted by an extraordinary sight.

On the walkways in front of them, a battle was taking place in front of a stone obelisk that looked like it was plugged into the console behind it. White armoured clones were crowded around the dark figure of Arkaan and Shane's blue-trimmed figure, the ARC standing back-to-back with the Mandalorian fighting a desperate hand-to-hand battle. Arkaan had a short sword in one hand and was using it to lethal effect, whilst Shane had a knife in each hand and slashing at everything not protected by white plate. The pair worked in almost perfect unison, weaving a deadly tapestry around them and spraying blood in all directions. A pile of bodies was forming at their feet.

A helmet-less clone with wild eyes had clambered on top of a tall console and was busy hitting everything he could with his carbine, occasionally firing a burst into the crowd beneath him, whilst the dismembered body of a clone wearing a more familiar helmet was scattered around the deck. Off to one side, Marcla was crouched with her head in her hands, occasionally shaking her head and shuddering.

In front of the tall stone, a dark figure was waving its arms around, as though directing the battle, and Hoday pointed to it.

"Target!" called out Jaig, and the four troopers instantly knelt, leveling their weapons. "Black robes, two o'clock, five rounds, rapid fire!"

Putting actions to words, he sighted down his own blaster and fired.

At the same time, the other troopers fired, and five blue bolts screamed towards the dark figure. A split-second later, the troopers fired again, then again, each firing five rounds at the person in the robes. The figure disappeared in a flash of blue, and they lowered their weapons a fraction.

The figure remained standing and, instead of collapsing, riddled with holes, the figure looked at them and extended a finger towards them.

"Are you the One?" thundered a voice, echoing off the walls and bearing down on them, battering them with the volume.

In reply, Hoday shook his head, ignited his lightsabre and charged.

Jaig growled an order and joined the Jedi General in charging into the mêlée, the troopers on his heels. As he ran, the sergeant fired one-handed, whilst the other tugged out his knife from his belt.

Jay, meanwhile, was staring at the obelisk and walking towards it slowly, completely ignored by everyone. Even the dark figure had turned back to the fight, waving his arms and calling out incantations.

Still fighting for his life, Arkaan caught sight of a woman in full Mandalorian armour and screamed incoherently at her. Instead of answering, she merely turned and pointed, and Arkaan saw Hoday and Jay. The butt of a rifle struck his shoulder, and he lashed out with his _beskad_, burying the blade in the meat of an enemy trooper's chest, wrenching it out with a violent tug. Behind him, Shane kicked a trooper back into a group of others, buying himself a few seconds, which he used to look back and see who Arkaan was calling out to. He frowned to himself before spotting the arriving reinforcement, and he waved, then returned to the job of stabbing anything that came near him, using his elbows and knees to buy space for him to swing the knives.

Hoday met the outside edge of the swirling knot of white-armour and swung with his saber, instantly dismembering two troopers and slashing open the breast-plate of another. He stabbed inwards, impaling a trooper on the purple blade and extended an arm, focusing his efforts with the Force.

Nothing happened.

Marcla stood and cried out, her arms waving as she tried to call on the Force, but, like Hoday, found herself unable to use her powers.

The obelisk flashed brightly for a second, and two bolts of faint lightning shot out, one connecting with Marcla's forehead, the other with Hoday. Both them instantly went slack, collapsing down onto their knees, their chins connecting with their chest.

Jaig cried out and made to fight his way towards his General, but watched in confusion as the enemy troopers completely ignored the two Jedi and turned back to Arkaan and Shane. The sergeant leveled his carbine and fired indiscriminately into the crowd before wading in with his knife.

Unseen by all of them, Jay wandered past Hoday and Marcla in a daze, eyes still locked on the sigil-covered stone, and raised a hand to it, closing the distance between them slowly but surely. The woman in armour appeared again in Arkaan's peripheral vision, and he turned to see her gesturing towards the slowly-moving boy.

"Jay!" called out Arkaan, still desperately fighting for his life. "Jay, no! Jay!"

Unhearing, the young man kept moving, and Arkaan redoubled his efforts, furiously trying to beat a path through to Jay. Shane joined in, pulling out a pistol and putting several shots into every piece of white armour in their way, but they weren't making much ground against the press of bodies.

Arkaan watched as, agonizingly slowly, Jay reached the obelisk, brushing past the robed figure and reaching up to touch the stone.

Jay's hand connected.

A silent explosion tore through the room, invisible waves of energy billowing out from the stone and blowing every one off their feet. Jay was seized by some invisible force and suspended in mid-air several feet off the floor, his head thrown back and his chest thrust forwards towards the stone. Tendrils of energy arced out towards him and rippled up and down his body, shaking it violently. The lightning keeping Marcla and Hoday subdued glowed, and the two Jedi bucked, making it look like they were being sucked dry by the stone, and the energy being transferred into Jay.

"NO!" cried out Arkaan, scrabbling to his feet. "JAY!"

Using the console next to him, the Mandalorian dragged himself to his feet and watched as Jay began to spin slowly in the air, lazily orbiting the stone. He glanced down at the console and stared as an idea began to form in his mind.

"Shane!" he called out. "Hold on to something!"

Without waiting for a reply, he buried his sword in the console, making it go dark and launched himself at Jay.

Around him, red lights began flashing and bodies began to float as the gravity to the room was cut off. His arm extended in front of him like a super-hero, Arkaan soared past clumps of bodies and the writhing figure in robes. His fingers began to work, as though itching to get his hands on Jay, and his legs began to move, willing himself onwards.

Shane, his left arm wrapped around a railing, watched in amazement as Arkaan flew past. Closer and closer the Mandalorian drifted towards Jay, keeping his arm extended outwards whilst the other was curled at his side.

Jay drifted around the stone one more time, sliding towards Arkaan, and finally, the two connected.

The Mandalorian hit hard, sending them both tumbling through the air, and the stone glowed angrily before the tendrils of energy flared and popped out of existence. The stone sent out another pulse of energy, throwing everything towards the walls of the power core room.

Jay and Arkaan slammed into a wall and drifted towards a gantry. Arkaan reached out and grabbed a railing, pulling them towards it and clipping himself to it. With his hands now free, he yanked off Jay's helmet and grabbed his hand in both hands, staring into Jay's eyes.

"Jay!" he yelled. "Answer me!"

The boy's eyes popped open and he stared at Arkaan with blood-red eyes that glowed. He looked, unseeing, before his eyes focused on Arkaan's helmet, and Jay smiled.

"I am the One," he whispered.


	17. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

Arkaan released Jay in shock and watched as he drifted away in the zero-gravity.

Jay twisted as he went, straightening his body and raising his arms slightly, looking like some kind of religious figure having a revelation. Seemingly under his own power, he drifted back towards the obelisk and turned so he was facing out from it. He gestured, and with a clunk of machinery, gravity was restored to the room, sending everyone crashing to the floor. Shane found himself hanging over the edge of a precipice and had to pull himself back up and over the railing, whilst Arkaan was dumped onto the walkway onto his back. The two Jedi, still connected to the obelisk by a translucent beam of light, seemed to not move at all, having been stuck on their knees during the ordeal.

The dark-robed figure got shakily to his feet and looked up at Jay, raising his own arms and sinking to his knees as though in worship. Those enemy troopers that hadn't disappeared over the edge of the walkways picked themselves and all turned to face the obelisk and Jay floating in front of it, in defiance of the re-establishment of the artificial gravity.

Jay gestured and the whole group turned to face Arkaan, still picking himself up from the floor, and he started, dropping into a combat stance before noticing they weren't attacking. He straightened and looked up at Jay, keeping one hand on the pistol holstered at his side. Across the room from him, machinery still sparked around his _beskad_ and he eyed it enviously, wishing it was still in his hand.

"Total obedience," said Jay.

His voice sounded strange, as though two people were talking at once, one with a much deeper voice than Jay had naturally, and the other with an odd buzzing quality. His eyes turned to regard Arkaan, still glowing with an eerie red back-light, and as his mouth opened to speak, the same glow emanated from behind his tongue. His artificial left arm sparked and glowed with blue arcs of electricity, flowing up and down his arm, sparking where it met his gauntlet. The grey hand came up, and Jay regarded it as if for the first time, and in response, the troopers span again, this time facing the robed figure at his feet.

"Your will?" it rasped.

"Tell me your purpose here," said the strange, echoing voice.

"To prepare the way for the unification of the galaxy, my lord, the unification you were prophesied to bring about."

"Unification? Through what means?"

"The same means by which you control your foot soldiers here, my lord."

The robed figure bowed low, and Jay watched, his expression unreadable. Arkaan watched nervously and exchanged a look with Shane from across the room.

Jay was being offered what looked like unlimited power, and no-one in the room could say for sure how he would react, or even if it was still the same Jay they knew that floated in mid-air above the obelisk. The only thing Arkaan knew for certain was that his fast draw had better be up to scratch, and he surreptitiously eased the catch off the holster at his side. Across from him, Shane caught the move out of the corner of his eye and moved his own hand to the single remaining pistol holstered over his kama. Locked into the solid holster as it was, all it needed was a quick movement of his fingers and it would be free, and if things went sour, then he'd be in competition with Arkaan to see who was quicker.

Neither wanted to test their reactions.

"What is your role?" asked Jay finally, indicating the figure below him.

"I was to pave the way, and to assist you in any way."

"No," said Jay, drawing the single syllable out. "You tried to kill me, and my companions. For this, you must die."

He gestured, and all the figure could do was let out a short scream before he was tackled by several troopers, and Shane and Arkaan had to look away as he was ripped apart. Disturbingly, the rest watched motionless, not reacting at all to the scene in front of them.

Behind Arkaan, Marcla and Hoday were released by the thin shafts of light, and both slumped onto their sides. The Mandalorian turned at the noise and rushed over to help Marcla up. Shane was at Hoday's side within seconds, checking his vitals and checking him over before helping him up and testing his reactions to upheld fingers.

"I think this is what a hangover feels like," slurred Marcla, leaning heavily on Arkaan and looking at Hoday.

"It is, trust me," replied the other Jedi. Shane laughed before starting in surprise.

Above them, Jay floated, lowering himself until his feet were hovering just above the deck and he could look Arkaan in the eye.

"Arkaan," he said, the troopers behind him all turning in unison to face the small group. "I need you to get to the dorsal hangar bay and evacuate the rest of Hoday's troopers off the ship. I'm afraid Raven has been killed, but Orikih is there and he will need your support."

"What are you going to do?"

"Something is coming, and I am the only person who can destroy it. But be careful getting back to the hangar bay. There are things on this vessel beyond even my control. Kill anything not wearing white armour. I think they used to be the crew. Shane?"

"Yes sir?"

"Do you know how to overload the power core of an Acclamator-class assault frigate?"

"I should be able to, yes."

"This ship works much in the same way. Take these ten troopers, they will follow every order you give them without question."

As he spoke, the room began to empty of troopers, apart from ten men who arrayed themselves behind Shane, standing ram-rod straight and ignoring his bewildered look.

"You're going to destroy the ship?" he asked, adjusting his helmet with one hand.

"I'm going to use this ship as a makeshift bomb, and I need you off this ship before it goes off."

"What about you?" interrupted Arkaan.

"It is better to destroy this threat at the source whilst we still can. This is the only way, Noa. Don't worry about me, I'm doing what is right."

"No, I won't let you do this. I've invested too much _shab'la_ time and effort into making you into something useful to let you do something stupid like this."

"I know, and for that, you have my thanks. But this is the way it must be. Now, go, before I have my men carry you out."

Arkaan stared at Jay for a few long seconds, torn between doing as he said and wanting to rescue him again from whatever it was he was experiencing. Out of the corner of his eye, movement made him turn his head, and he saw the armoured woman again, standing beside the obelisk. She was staring at him, and though he couldn't see them, he knew they were locking eyes, and it seemed as though she was looking deep inside him.

"Noa," said a small voice in his ear, and he knew instinctively it was her. "Let him go."

***

"Sir, something's coming out of the nebula."

Pell looked across to the sensor station and frowned. "What now?"

"It looks like an asteroid sir, but it's huge, easily twice the size of the _Indomitable_. Heavy metal content, and I'm picking up lots of heat signatures, possible signs of life."

"Is it moving under power?"

"Possibly, but I can't be sure. I'll know more once it gets closer."

"Range?"

"Six minutes until it reaches maximum range of our guns, six minutes thirty until it's within effective range. The only reason I'm picking it up is because of the size, sir. Any smaller and the interference from the nebula would have masked it until it was almost on top of us, but it's definitely there."

"Any idea where it came from?"

"Current trajectory back-tracks directly through the nebula, but beyond that is open space, so my best guess is that it's either on an extremely long orbit of a nearby planetary body or it originated from the nebula itself."

Pell stood staring at the nebula, stroking his chin whilst the officers around him waited nervously for his orders.

"Guns," he barked out at last. "Re-plot solutions and target that asteroid. Do we have any gunships still in the air?"

"Two, sir, on a combat air patrol around the _Indomitable_."

"Pull in the CAP and launch all gunships. Make sure they all have full-loads of ammunition. Helm, put us on an intercept course and bring us along-side. Prepare for a broadside."

Beneath their feet, the deck vibrated slightly as the noise of the engines changed pitch, pulling them away from the ghost ship and swinging towards open space. From the hangar bays, LAAT/i gunships began to pour out in a steady stream, some of them taking up station around the _Iron Fist_ whilst the rest headed towards the enormous asteroid.

"Open hailing frequencies," commanded Pell.

"Frequencies open, sir. No response."

"Any transmissions of any kind?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Have the boarding party reported in yet?"

"No, sir, not since Colonel Raven landed his troops."

Several minutes passed as they waited impatiently for the asteroid to come within range. As they drifted further from the _Indomitable_, Pell found his gaze drawn to the red and grey vessel again and again, despite his attempts to concentrate on the dirt-coloured irregular disc approaching them in the viewport.

"Sir! Energy spikes on the _Indomitable_! Engines are firing, and I'm seeing weapons powering up."

"Check for comm transmissions! I want to know who's in charge of that vessel!"

The tense silence in the bridge was broken by a faint hissing from the speakers, punctuated by a few short screams. Suddenly a loud voice broke through the interference.

"Captain Pell! _Iron Fist_, do you copy? This is Arkaan, acknowledge!"

"Colonel? This is Captain Pell. Report!"

"Requesting immediate evac from the dorsal hangar bay! Numbers unknown at this time, but we need to get out of here, now! Make ready to jump to lightspeed as soon as we get on-board, I'll explain later, but you have to trust me."

"What's going on, Arkaan?"

"No time to explain, captain! We need to get out of here as fast as possible."

"We have a possible enemy contact here, Arkaan, I need more information to go on than that!"

"It's hostile, but don't worry about it. The _Indomitable_ is under friendly control and can deal with that, but right now, we need to move!"

"I don't like this, Colonel."

"Captain, this is General Hoday," said a tired, slurred voice. "Arkaan is speaking for me right now, so do as he says."

"Yes, sir," replied Pell stiffly. "But I do so under protest."

"So noted, captain. Get those gunships moving!" yelled Arkaan.

Pell looked to one side and nodded, and voices began to call urgently into headsets, ordering several of the out-bound gunships to turn around. He turned and marched off towards the rear of the bridge, pausing beside his executive officer.

"XO, take over. I'll be in my quarters."


	18. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

The group hurried along the corridors, Arkaan supporting Marcla, whilst Upchuck did the same with Hoday, though under protest. Jaig and the other troopers surrounded them, with Jaig himself taking point. The sergeant did his best to keep their pace quick, but not too quick for the two Jedi, since both were still feeling the effects of whatever it was had affected them.

Unbeknownst to the others, Arkaan was having a raging argument inside his helmet with the woman running beside him that none of the others could see.

"Was this why you had me take him in?" he raged. "Just so he could kill himself saving the rest of us?"

"You think I'm using him just to save your _shebs_?"

"Well why else do you keep appearing, if not to protect me? Or are you just a product of that…thing back there that's been slowly guiding me towards getting Jay on-board this ship?"

"Indirectly. All you need to know is, there are other forces out there, some of which don't want to see bad things like this happen."

"I thought that's what the Jedi were supposed to be for," he replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Their time is ending, Noa. The Jedi aren't as effective as they might have been."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you really think that this war would have happened if they were?"

"So, what, are you supposed to be the Force using me instead of the Jedi to do their dirty work? What a load of _osik_."

"I didn't say what I was, and if you're going to be like that, then maybe I should just stop helping you."

"Good! _Usen'ye_! Leave me alone! You died in my arms three years ago, for _shabs_ sake! I saw you bleed out, I saw your guts hanging out! I burned your body myself, so why the _shab_ are you still here? Why won't you let me move on?!"

"You don't want me around?"

"NO!"

"That hurts, Noa."

"Not as much as it hurts every time I see your face. Don't you care, at all?"

"You'd be dead without me, and you know it."

"So you've pointed out a few dangerous situations along the way, so what?"

"I've pointed out things you've been too stupid or bantha-headed to see yourself, things you would've missed completely. You're not perfect, Noa."

"And you're dead."

Ahead, Jaig called a halt, making Arkaan look up. They were on the bottom level of a dual-level corridor, with a bank of turbo-lifts jutting out into the passageway half-way down. Ahead, just beside the doors to the lifts, an enormous black animal had appeared and was staring at them, four talon-tipped tails pointed in their direction.

Arkaan propped Marcla up against a wall and moved forward to beside Jaig and the pair of them stared back at the thing.

"What is it?" asked Jaig.

"Probably what Jay warned us about. Whatever it is, it doesn't look friendly and it's in our way."

Without waiting for a reply, he advanced down the corridor, unslinging his rifle and flicking off the safety with a jerk of his hand. The animal growled low in its throat, backing up slightly onto its haunches and fixing Arkaan with a red-eyed glare.

Arkaan leveled the rifle and fired both barrels of the rifle.

The force of the blast threw the beast back several metres, and Arkaan kept walking towards it, cracking open the rifle and replacing two cartridges in the breech. He closed it with a snap and fired again, this time from the hip. Dozens of tiny red streaks of energy slammed into the quad-tailed monstrosity, throwing it over and rolling it several times.

It lay there twitching and smoking as Arkaan reloaded and he stood over it, one boot prodding it in the side. A small groan sounded and it turned slightly to look at him. He lowered the twin-muzzles until they rested against a baleful eye and squeezed the trigger.

***

Two of the strange-helmeted clone troopers worked beside Shane as he tapped away at a keyboard on the main console that backed on to the power core, directly behind the obelisk. Despite the concentration required for the task, he still found himself looking over his shoulder at it, wishing it would stop looking at him before realizing it wasn't.

The console in front of him finally yielded results, and he punched a few more keys before turning to the two troopers beside him.

"You. Destroy valves Two and Three on level Four, and you, find the console controlling that area and reroute the plasma through those valves."

The two troopers moved off immediately and Shane stared after them, making sure they were gone. The other eight were scattered around the room, leaving him alone beside the console. Jay was nowhere to be seen.

He threw one last look around and bent over the console again, quickly navigating to the logs and calling up as many as he could find. A datapad appeared from his belt, and he plugged it in, tapping a few keys on the 'pad and initiating a search of the records.

"What are you doing?"

Shane started and span to see Jay looking over his shoulder, still hovering a few inches off the deck.

"I'm carrying out my mission and gathering intelligence."

"This is one mission you won't be able to complete, lieutenant."

"Are you going to stop me?"

"Yes, I am."

Jay gestured and the datapad sparked and caught fire. Shane dropped it and watched it melt on the deck at his feet, the cable sliding out of the jack and melting in the same pool.

"Jay, you shouldn't have done that," said Shane, a dangerous tone to his voice, looking up at the floating figure.

"If you go down this path, you'll find things you won't like."

"I need to find out where this vessel came from and what this obelisk is," he replied through gritted teeth.

"No, you don't, Shane."

"Who are you to decide?"

"What is Order 66, Shane?"

The ARC blinked beneath his helmet in surprise.

"How the _fierfek_ do you know about Order 66?"

"I control the minds of thousands of clone troopers. What is Order 66?"

"You must know what it is, why do you need me to recite it?"

"Indulge me."

Shane paused and inhaled slowly, calling upon his considerable memory. Enhanced by the Kaminoan geneticists, he and his fellow ARC brothers had all been bred to be the best of the best whilst still retaining some of Jango Fett's more individualistic traits, making them into super-commandos that some thought may well have been better than Fett himself. They'd never gotten the chance to test it, but the qualities bred into them served them extremely well in the field, and it was these qualities that Shane called upon now, casting his memory back to the contingency orders they'd made all of them memorise.

"In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established," he recited.

"Have you ever asked yourself why command of the GAR would revert to Chancellor Palpatine and not to senior military commanders at the Admiralty?"

"I…the Jedi would never act against the interests of the Republic, so it would never happen, I've never had reason to think about it."

"Where did your orders to investigate this vessel originate?"

"From the Office of the Chancellor."

"So did the orders that dispatched this vessel to pick up the obelisk, lieutenant."

"But…that doesn't make sense. They could have just sent another ship to bring this one in."

"Unless the Chancellor wanted to keep the number of people who knew about this kept to a minimum. The _Indomitable_ won't be built for another two years, Shane. After picking up the obelisk, it encountered a wormhole, initiated in part by the Force-emanations from the obelisk, and was thrown three years into the past. It's been here since almost the beginning of the war, just waiting to be found, and that's what you're doing here. Finding something for the Chancellor. But you need to stop and ask yourself, why does he want it? What possible reason could he have for possessing an artifact of such power?"

Shane swallowed.

"I'm not stupid, Jay," he replied carefully. "I know there are things I'm not supposed to know about and sometimes the orders I'm given don't make sense, but it's not my place to question them."

"But you do. You said it yourself, you're not stupid, and if you're anything like Jango Fett, you'll already know how your orders fit into the grand scheme of things. This is one of those times when your observations must govern your actions. Look at what's happened to me, a young man, barely out of his teens, with no ambition past that of surviving another week in the company of Noa Arkaan. What would the obelisk do to a man who already has effective control of half the known galaxy and millions of soldiers?"

"I don't know. I don't want to know."

"Then don't find out. Leave the obelisk here and don't dig any deeper into the logs. You already know too much. Let the knowledge die with me."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Shane abruptly, pulling himself upright and straining to look at Jay eye-to-eye.

"Because I am the only one who can. Is the power core ready to be blown?"

"Once the troopers finish their tasks, all you need to do is crank up the power. I've disabled the vents and flooded the rest of the pipes, so all you need to do is overload the core and the rest will take care of itself. You'll have two minutes from when you initiate the overload."

"Thank you, Shane. You had better get going. I'm going to ram the _Indomitable_ into the asteroid bearing the means by which I am supposed to enslave the galaxy before detonating the core, and I don't think you'll want to be on board when I do."

Shane grabbed his rifle from where he'd retrieved it and ran towards the exit. When he reached the doorway, he paused and turned, staring at Jay as he floated towards another exit, higher in the room on another walkway. Jay noticed him and looked down.

The ARC lieutenant saluted smartly, swallowing a lump in his throat before triggering the door and running as fast as he could out of the power core chamber.

***

Orikih raised an arm, and the troopers surrounding him halted, some taking a knee whilst others sought cover in doorways and behind machinery.

The Wookiee had gone on a grief-fuelled rampage, stalking the corridors around the hangar bay like an enormous predator, hunting down every black beast he could find and decorating the bulkheads with their remains. The troopers with him had done their best to keep up, but had mainly worked to secure the hangar bay itself, with only a few small squads accompanying Orikih.

They'd not seen any more enemy clones since the battle, their white-armoured foes having disappeared completely wherever they searched, and some of the remaining officers with the boarding party were uneasy about it. With their immediate commanding officer dead, command fell to Orikih, but it was felt that his judgment was impaired, and some of the officers were on the verge of declaring the Wookiee incompetent and taking command themselves when they overheard the transmissions from Arkaan and Hoday to the _Iron Fist_. They immediately began ordering a retreat to the dorsal hangar bay, whilst Orikih himself took several squads to link up with Arkaan.

The doorway at the end of the corridor slid open and Marcla stumbled through, supported by two clone troopers. A green-striped sergeant with jaig eyes hurried through behind them, one arm supporting General Hoday, the other gripping a carbine that was pointed behind him, back through the door.

Blaster shots echoed through the doorway, and another trooper burst through the door, closely followed by Arkaan, his double-barreled rifle smoking as he cracked it open to reload. Shane's back appeared in the doorway, and the door frame around him lit up with a blue strobe effect as he fired back down the corridor, spraying fire from his Westar.

"Go!" yelled Arkaan. "Get to the hangar bay!"

Orikih growled and roared, and the clones surrounding him began to fall back, several of them helping Marcla and Hoday, relieving the other troopers of their burden. Shane, meanwhile, backed up the rest of way out of the door and slapped the controls, sealing it.

"Move!" he yelled to the troopers still pointing their weapons at the doorway. "Don't worry about SOPs, get moving, go, run!"

The orderly retreat descended into a headlong dash as howling screams began to filter through the sealed door. Orikih, having the longest legs, easily overtook the majority of the running troops, and ended up picking up Hoday along the way, having seen he was struggling. Arkaan and Shane found themselves running with Marcla supported between them, and the added burden began to slow them noticeably.

Their route took them down corridors and through various rooms, some still with clone personnel keeping them secure, and each occupied room they passed added to the crowd moving towards the hangar bay. As they ran, Arkaan had activated his comm and was barking orders at the troopers in the hangar bay, preparing a defensive position that they could fall back to and hold until the gunships arrived.

At last, the group spilled out into the hangar bay and crossed it at break-neck speed, running full-tilt towards the piles of crates and dead bodies that had been set up in a line near the hangar bay force fields. Clones hurdled the barricades, spinning as they landed to add their rifles to those already pointing back towards the way they had come.

Shane and Arkaan were halfway across the hangar when a shout rang out across the hangar. Blaster bolts began to fly past them, and the trio collapsed into a pile on the floor to avoid them.

For the second time that day, the dorsal hangar bay became the focus of a pitched battle for survival.


	19. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

A black tide of beasts poured from the entranceways, some running across the walls and ceiling, others pounding on all fours towards the defenders. The air was filled with blasts from DC15s and the ozone stink of blaster discharge.

Arkaan, Marcla and Shane kept their heads down, Marcla and Arkaan crawling as fast as they could towards the barricades whilst Shane lay on his back, a pistol in each hand and blasted away with both, alternating shots with each hand, scoring dozens of hits before the power packs ran dry.

Several objects flew overhead, and the ARC curled himself into a ball automatically. The grenades went off in a staccato burst, throwing gore, blood and shrapnel into the air. Arkaan looked back and watched Shane as he commando-crawled his way towards him, moving arm-over-arm as quickly as he could.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arkaan spotted Shane's rifle and quickly snatched it up before spraying fire into the solid mass of oncoming beasts. He kept the fire up as the ARC passed him, putting short bursts into anything that came too close. Behind him, Marcla pulled herself up and over the barricade and waved away a medic.

Shane paused behind Arkaan and took a few seconds to reload his pistols. With one hand, he leveled a pistol and opened fire again, whilst the other hand reached over and tapped Arkaan on the shoulder. Feeling the contact, the Mandalorian swung himself around and scrambled on all fours to the barricade, propping himself up on it and firing back the way he came, yelling at Shane to come on.

One of the beasts flew through the air, almost landing on top of Shane before several red blasts of energy caught it and threw it backwards. Shane turned to see Orikih switching targets and firing again with the heavy repeating blaster in his hands, powerful blasts thrumming out of the barrel and wreaking destruction amongst the attacking animals.

Shane used the distraction to maximum effect, scrabbling to his feet and running full pelt towards the barricades, picking up Arkaan along the way and all-but hurling both of them over the crates.

Around them, troopers were firing in disciplined bursts, keeping to their training despite the desperate circumstances. Hoday had appropriated a carbine from somewhere and was lending his own fire to the volleys, whilst Marcla had her hands extended in front of her, eyes closed in concentration. Neither had any idea what she was doing, but if it was helping, then interrupting her could well have a detrimental effect on the defence, and so they turned back to the fight.

More and more beasts were filtering through the doorways opposite them, scrabbling over the bodies of those that had gone before trying to get closer. But despite their best efforts at keeping the hordes away, the black pile crept ever closer, coming dangerously close to the barricades themselves, threatening the troopers behind them with leaping beasts.

Suddenly, a side-wall blew out, throwing debris and gore into the air and knocking several troopers closest to the blast off their feet. Through the ragged hole floated a figure trailing translucent tendrils of light, and Arkaan cried out in shock as he recognised Jay.

Barely visible blasts of energy flew from his hands, throwing beasts in all directions. One landed behind the barricades and disemboweled three troopers before succumbing to repeated blows from rifle butts and knife blades. Another jumped at Jay, mouth wide open and fangs bared, but Jay merely turned and punched it, burying his arm up to the elbow into its mouth. The two halves of the animal slid off his metallic arm, sparking as they fell, and Jay turned, gesturing with his other organic hand, spattering the bulkheads beside him with gore and body parts.

He turned and looked at the group, eyes somehow boring into every single one of them, and the fire slackened off.

"Go," whispered a voice in their ears. "I'll hold them."

With a pop of displaced air, a LAAT/i broke the force field and swooped over their heads, firing a few bursts from the anti-personnel cannons, vaporising several chunks of the still-advancing horde. It swung around and settled behind the barricades and Marcla stood beside it, waving several squads on board.

Two more gunships appeared and settled onto the deck, their cargo-bay doors sliding open as soon as they were inside the atmosphere of the hangar. More squads broke off from the defence on the orders of Marcla and their sergeants and jumped onto the waiting transports.

Arkaan fired a few more bursts before turning and looking at the remaining troopers maintaining the defensive wall. He was shocked to see less than thirty men training their rifles over the make-shift barricades. Turning to Jaig, he motioned him over.

"Is this everyone? Have we left anyone behind?" he asked frantically.

"This is everyone left alive sir," replied Jaig after tilting his head for a few seconds and consulting his comm.

"An entire battalion," whispered Arkaan, almost to himself.

The Mandalorian turned to see Hoday staring at him, as if realising the same thing at the exact same time as Arkaan. The Jedi swallowed hard and set his jaw, blinking furiously as tears threatened to overwhelm him. Arkaan looked away and caught Orikih's eye, and the Wookiee growled low in his throat.

Two of the gunships took off whilst the other was still being loaded. Another swept into the hangar and dropped down onto the deck, hard.

Without hesitating, Orikih grabbed Hoday by the scruff of the neck and threw him bodily into the cargo bay of the newly-arrived gunship before following him in. Arkaan yelled an order and the rest of the troopers broke off as one, jumping into the gunship one-by-one. The other LAAT/i, now full of exhausted clones, took off and quickly slid out of the force field and up and out of the hangar bay.

Marcla, having directed the troopers onto the arriving gunships, finally swung herself into the last transport, settling herself down beside Hoday, who was sat with his head in his crossed arms at Orikih's feet. Shane leapt up into the cargo bay, and offered Arkaan his hand.

He was the last man on the deck, and before accepting Shane's hand, he looked back at Jay.

Blasts of semi-invisible force were throwing bodies around the hangar bay, pulverising bodies and destroying the black-skinned animals as they appeared. From the ragged hole Jay had appeared from, a line of white armour had appeared, and was firing tight, disciplined volleys into the mass of writing bodies.

"Let him go," whispered a voice, and he turned to see her standing beside him again, one foot on the lip of the cargo area of the gunship and one hand extended towards him.

Arkaan gritted his teeth and used Shane's hand to pull him aboard the LAAT/i.

***

The _Indomitable_ accelerated towards the approaching asteroid, enormous cannons turning on their mounts and engines flaring dangerously. Gunships circled it like feeding parasites on an aquatic leviathan, swooping in close and keeping a close eye on the vessel, concentrating their attentions on the half-destroyed doors of the dorsal hangar.

Four LAAT/i gunships accelerated away from the enormous ship, and the other ships dropped into an escort position around them.

Captain Pell watched them on the view-screen in his quarters.

He'd pulled open his stiff military tunic, loosening it so he could relax and had poured himself a glass from the bottle of expensive Corellian whiskey he kept in his safe. He usually reserved the Whyren's Reserve for special occasions, but he needed something to take the edge off, and watching the proceedings from his comfortably furnished quarters hadn't improved his mood any. Rare artworks adorned the walls, and in one corner, a Nubian statue dominated the room, but their usual calming effects were lost on him, and he had found himself activating his remote observation suite.

Calm transmissions echoed through his quarters, giving status updates from all around the _Iron Fist_ and the incoming gunships, and he idly switched his attentions from each one in turn as they came in, gritting his teeth as he heard Hoday's voice over the comm.

"Commander, you have to move the _Iron Fist_ as far away as possible, as quickly as possible!" His voice sounded tired and rasping, as though on the edge of cracking altogether.

"Can you elaborate?" replied Pell's XO.

"Not over an open channel. Do you have a hyperspace course plotted?"

"We can jump as soon as you're on board, sir."

"Then do so. Tell Captain Pell I want to see him and his senior officers once we're under way."

A flat electronic voice cut in, announcing ETA in ninety seconds and that medical personnel were standing by, and Pell sighed, switching off the audio.

On the holo floating in front of him, turbo-laser blasts began to lance out from the _Indomitable_ and detonated explosively against the rocky skin of the asteroid. The firing paused for a second before re-starting in earnest, laying down a formidable weight of fire and blowing enormous chunks out into space.

Pell frowned. The ship wasn't slowing as it got closer to the asteroid, and wasn't pulling around to deliver a broad-side, standard tactics when dealing with such a target, and he muttered to himself about the stupidity of the commanding officer.

He was still muttering when the tip of the _Indomitable_'s nose buried itself into the asteroid, knocking it off-course and sending violent shudders up and down the hull. Watching in astonishment, he dropped the glass as the _Indomitable_'s engines flared again, pushing it deeper into the asteroid, crushing itself against the dense rock and causing the stern to slew around.

The screen flared white and the view on his screen disappeared, leaving a bright after-image on Pell's retinas and making him blink. The deck vibrated beneath his feet and the engine pitch changed, and Pell knew instinctively that the _Iron Fist_ had made the jump to hyperspace.

Pell glanced down at the glass at his feet and sighed at the waste of good whiskey.

***

Hoday sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the cargo bay of the gunship he'd arrived in.

The rest of the troopers that had been evacuated had already been marshaled out of the hangar, leaving the two Jedi, Orikih, Arkaan and Shane on their own with just the ground crews of the gunships, running maintenance checks and shut-down procedures on the returning gunships. Some were already being pushed towards their storage racks, whilst others still had pilots turning in their logs and signing the transports back over to the ground crews.

Orikih dropped down next to Hoday and pulled off his helmet, setting it beside him on the deck and scrubbing his eyes with enormous paws. Hoday barely acknowledged his presence, preferring to keep his gaze on his boots. The carbine he'd been using was on his lap, and the black plasteel grips had barely visible smears of blood on them, smears that Hoday's gaze kept returning to.

He shook his head.

"So many dead," he whispered again, having repeated it many times during the short journey back to the _Iron Fist_.

Reaching down, he pulled a small flask off his belt and took a long swig from it, gritting his teeth as the strong alcohol burned its way down his throat and relishing the almost immediate effect it had on him.

Orikih growled and yiffed at him, extending the claws of one hand and examining them closely. Hoday looked across at them and noted the dark blood caking them in surprise.

"You used your claws?" he asked.

The Wookiee nodded. It was a little known fact that Wookiees, being tree-dwelling creatures, had enormous claws that sprang from their paws, which were used by the hairy humanoids to move amongst the high branches of their home world, Kashyyyk. However, the use of the claws in anger or combat was strictly forbidden and an absolute taboo, and those that did were labeled as 'mad-claws' and exiled from Wookiee society. For Orikih to have used his claws in combat, even in a grief-stricken rage over the death of Raven, had added an enormous burden onto the Wookiee's shoulders, forever saddled with the shame of knowing he'd used his claws as weapons.

Hoday reached up with one hand and dug his fingers into the fur at the back of Orikih's neck, working his fingers in and rubbing gently. His other hand offered the flask, and Orikih took it, emptying the flask into his mouth and returning it unrepentant.

"If it helps," said Hoday. "You're more Mandalorian than Wookiee."

Orikih snorted and growled at him, making guttural noises under his breath. Hoday laughed bitterly.

"Perhaps you're right. I can't be much of a Jedi if I've already killed most of the men under my command."

A question barked out and Hoday nodded.

"Yeah, plenty more _tihaar_ in my quarters. C'mon, I can see Pell after I've had a good nights' sleep."

Across the hangar, Marcla was sitting on a crate next to Arkaan, sharing a canteen of water. Arkaan's helmet was at his feet, having been dropped there without care, and Shane awkwardly approached the pair, a dark red object in his hands. He'd taken his helmet off, and dark stains and scuffs marked his bone-white armour.

"Sir, I…I should be writing up my report about the engagement, but…I'm not sure if I should, considering what happened. How can I really explain it?"

"Don't," replied Arkaan in a raw voice. "We boarded a strange vessel, were attacked, took heavy casualties and had to retreat whilst the self-destruct activated."

"Alright." Shane hesitated, making Arkaan look up at him. He was surprised to see uncertainty in the ARC lieutenant's eyes. "I can deal with almost anything thrown at me. I was bred for it, and trained by Fett himself to be the best, but…this was never in any of my training."

"Welcome to the real world, lieutenant. It's a horrible place."

Shane nodded and swallowed. He turned to move away, before remembering the object in his hands. He held it up, offering it to Arkaan.

"I was given this, sir. I think it's Raven's helmet."

Arkaan stared at it with red-rimmed eyes and his jaw worked back and forth, muscles bunching beneath his skin as they clenched. Beside him, Marcla pressed the canteen back into his hands and stood, taking the helmet and putting a hand on Shane's shoulder.

"I'll take it, lieutenant. Thank you. Dismissed."

Shane saluted and turned on his heel, smartly marching out of the hangar bay and out of sight. Marcla set the helmet onto the crate where she'd been sitting and looked at Arkaan.

"What do you think you'll do now?" she asked quietly.

"I'll stay with the 78th," he replied. "Or what's left of them. Hoday will need us. It's not easy losing so many men."

"Yes, I took a look at the figures. Out of a battalion of over five hundred men, we're returning to Coruscant with less than a hundred."

"Barely a company," muttered Arkaan.

"How long did you know Jay?"

"Only a few months. I pulled him out of a bar and stopped him from getting mugged, took him in and brought him with me when I was recruited by Raven."

"Yes, I was sorry to hear about his death. He was a good man."

Arkaan stood abruptly, towering over the Jedi. He had to bend slightly to look her in the eye, and did so, almost pushing his nose into hers.

"You didn't know him at all," he whispered. "So don't even try and give me any sympathy."

"I may have only known him for a short while…" she began, cut Arkaan cut her off with a finger to her chest.

"No. You didn't know him, so just shut up before I get angry."

"I fear you already are, Arkaan."

"Is this how Jedi are taught to deal with people who've lost two friends in one day?" He paused, giving her enough time to draw a breath to answer before cutting her off again. "No, you know, I don't want to hear it. Just stay out of my way."

He bent and picked up his helmet, glaring at Marcla before turning to leave. The helmet on the crate in front of him caught his eye, and he stared at it before grabbing it and stalking away with the hunched shoulders of an angry man.

A young ensign in a black uniform rushed into the hangar and hesitated, looking between Arkaan and Marcla before eventually deciding. He ran and caught up with the Mandalorian, stopping in front of him and saluting smartly, puffing out his chest.

"What?!" yelled Arkaan in his face.

"Sir, I…" the ensign stammered, caught off guard by the angry reaction. "We recovered something that I think you might want to see."

"This had better be good."

The ensign ran out of the hangar, closely followed by Arkaan. Marcla, having seen the exchange, followed at a discreet distance as the young man in the black uniform led the Mandalorian in his dark black and purple coloured armour to a small aft hangar bay, where rescue crews were crowded around a long, cylindrical object.

Steam and other chemicals were dripping off the dark grey surface, and two crewman in heavy protective clothing stood off to one side with hoses, ready to spray it again if necessary. A small crowd was gathered around another crew member that was using an industrial cutter to slice into the side of the pod.

As Arkaan arrived, the crew member finished cutting, and another crewman attached something to the section of pod that had been worked on. The crewman stepped back, playing out a long line and, after getting a few metres back, yanked on the line.

The door burst open from the pull, and four crew members immediately rushed in, one jumping inside, closely followed by another, whilst the other two stepped up and reached in. All four of them were pulling at something, manoeuvring it out of the pod.

A medical team rushed past Arkaan with a repulsor-stretcher and he moved after them, suddenly recognizing the cylinder as an escape pod.

As he got closer, the person they were pulling out of the pod came into view, and Arkaan stopped in shock as the medical team helped to get Jay out and onto the deck. Tears rose unbidden to his eyes, and his jaw worked, as though trying to say something, but no sound came out. Both of the helmets dropped to the ground as his grip went slack and his knees threatened to give way.

Jay looked up, saw Arkaan and smiled. He shrugged off the rescue workers and medics and walked on unsteady feet towards him. His face was haggard and lined, looking as though the ordeal had aged him, and his left arm kept twitching, but he pulled himself upright as he walked, determined to make it over to Arkaan under his own steam.

He stopped in front of the Mandalorian and, unsure of what else to do, threw a weak salute.

An unreadable expression crossed Arkaan's face, and before anyone could react, his fist came up and punched Jay in the face.

Jay fell, shock on his face, but Arkaan grabbed him by his armour as he fell and pulled him into a hug. Confused, Jay returned it, and the crews around them watching in an awkward silence, unsure of what to do.

Arkaan pulled back and wiped his eyes fiercely, as though embarrassed by his reaction, and clapped his hands onto Jay's upper arms. Jay nodded and blinked back tears of his own.

"I lost my helmet," he croaked sheepishly.

After a few seconds of silence, Arkaan burst out laughing. He knelt and picked up Raven's helmet, turning it over a few times in his hands before thrusting it into Jay's arms.

"Here," he said. "Raven doesn't need it any more."

Jay nodded and cradled the helmet, before a pair of medics gently eased him towards the stretcher and sat him down on it. One of them began to look him over whilst the other pushed it towards the exit, taking him to the infirmary to check him over.

As he followed, Arkaan walked past Marcla and thrust a finger into her face.

"This doesn't let you off the hook."

Marcla smiled.


	20. Chapter 21

**Twenty-One**

_Our arrival back at Coruscant was a somber affair. With our numbers reduced by the adventures on board the _Indomitable_ and the previous siege, the troopers that were expected failed to materialize, and all explanations fell on deaf ears. _

_Due to his command role during the boarding action, Noa Arkaan was dismissed forthwith from the employment of the Grand Army of the Republic, as was the Wookiee known as Orikih. Harl Raven was also given a posthumous discharge, and his out-standing wages were with-held, much to the anger of Arkaan and Orikih. As for myself, being an accessory and major player in the events leading to 'the unnecessary and criminally negligent destruction of a possible future military asset', I was dishonourably discharged and told in no uncertain terms that my continued presence in the Core Worlds of the Galactic Republic would be considered illegal and that a self-imposed exile would be the best thing for both myself and the GAR._

_The ARC lieutenant A-78, known as Shane, disappeared as soon as the _Iron Fist_ docked, and we later discovered that after being debriefed, he was sent immediately off on another mission. I believe Arkaan received a short message from him, but never shared the contents with me, and Senaar refuses to talk about it._

_The Jedi Marcla disappeared the day after our 'sentence' was announced, recalled by the Jedi Council to some other unknown assignment. She left as mysteriously as she arrived, quietly and leaving no sign of her presence bar our memories._

_As for General Jaro Hoday and the 78__th__ Assault Battalion, the news was possibly the worst received. Despite the strenuous objections of Hoday himself and all the officers, the 78__th__ itself was disbanded, due to some obscure policy whereby units that take enough casualties are disbanded and their personnel re-assigned to existing units needing replacements. Hoday took the news badly and make it clear that if the 78__th__ ceased to exist, then so would his allegiance to the Jedi Order. His bluff was called, and was taken before the Jedi Council, where it is reported that he was reprimanded and assigned to menial duties within the Jedi Temple to contemplate his words. His attempted resignation was ignored and refused to be heard on the matter, and cautioned that his anger on the subject was considered too much of the Dark Side to be dismissed. _

_It was for this reason that Hoday absconded, and is now currently on-board the _Tracyn'senaar_ with myself, Noa Arkaan and Orikih, in hyperspace en route to the home of now ex-Colonel Arkaan. His thoughts on the subject have shaken my faith in what I understood to be the infallibility of the famous Order, and for a now possibly former Jedi Knight to take refuge with a man who's people are known for their enmity towards the Jedi and, indeed, as I have recently discovered, fought many-a-time against them as allies of their ancient enemy, the Sith, is a situation I have not heard of, and one that the galaxy at large is almost certain never to hear of either. _

_For the Jedi to work with a race known for killing Jedi in their hundreds must have been difficult, and perhaps the reverse was true as well. From my talks with Senaar and Arkaan, their hatred of the Jedi is apparent, and the decisions made about the 78__th__ and Hoday have only served to deepen their feelings towards the Order. Should my own feelings mirror their own? I, who have grown up on one of the worlds where a Jedi presence is strongest and spent most of my short life hearing about their heroic deeds and lofty ideals?_

_Perhaps judgment on such opinions are better served after more experience with both groups, but I fear my own opinion would be coloured by the increased exposure I have to the Mandalorians._

Jay glanced up from where he was sat hunched around a cheap datapad that had replaced the broken interface in his arm. The severance wage from the GAR hadn't been much, since they had seen fit to fine all of the advisors, and a replacement for his arm was too expensive. With the help of a sympathetic GAR tech, they'd managed to salvage the motherboard and had transferred the main data and memory to a standard clone issue datapad, and he had spent most of the past week trying to get used to it.

He was seated at the mess table of the _Tracyn'senaar_, with the remains of a light meal surrounding him. Arkaan had disappeared to get some sleep in his bunk some hours ago, and Hoday and Orikih were playing a game of sabacc with a battered deck of cards on a low table, both of them seated on a pair of beaten-up couches pushed up against a pair of bulkheads.

Their departure from Coruscant had been less-than-quiet, with Arkaan barely acknowledging the orders to hold from traffic control before accelerating away, burning hard for open space. Two frigates had moved to intercept, but had mysteriously broken off before getting within range, allowing them to make the jump to lightspeed.

"What will you do now?" asked Jay, staring at Hoday.

"What?" he replied, looking up as though he hadn't heard Jay, keeping his hand hidden from Orikih.

"Well, aren't you a fugitive from the Jedi? I don't think they're going to just let you walk away from being a Jedi."

"They don't really have a choice. And, to be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I don't want to be a member of an organization that treats men like that."

A hatch hissed open, and Arkaan walked in, rubbing the palm of one hand into an eye-socket, still bleary from waking up. He looked up at them and frowned.

"Why are you looking so glum?" he rasped.

"I was just telling Jay how you were right," said Hoday quietly.

"In what way?"

"About the Jedi. They're just not prepared for leading men like that. None of us were. Command needs to be given to the clone officers themselves, or the men who trained them."

"They?" Arkaan raised an eyebrow. "Finally decided to you're not one of them?"

"I stopped being a Jedi the moment they gave me command of the 78th."

"So did the rest of the Order," said Jay quietly and Hoday nodded slowly in agreement.

"My, aren't we getting all philosophical," piped up a voice from a speaker.

Hoday started and Arkaan and Jay both laughed at the same time, stopping as suddenly as they started to stare at each other in surprise, before laughing aloud again.

"What was that?" asked Hoday, looking around.

"He's rude," replied Senaar. "Can I space the Jedi?"

"No," said Arkaan sharply, looking up the ceiling. "He's an ex-Jedi, and he's coming with us."

"Finally seen the light, has he? You need to stop taking in strays, _cyar'ika_, it's starting to get a little crowded in here."

"Shut up, Senaar. What do you want, anyway?"

"We're coming up on a course correction, do you want me to handle it? Or would you like to get those big, handsome hands all over my consoles?"

Arkaan rolled his eyes.

"You do it. Do all of them without asking for the rest of the journey. Just give us a half hour warning before we arrive."

"Whatever you desire, master."

Hoday raised an eyebrow at Arkaan, who shook his head in reply and walked out back towards his cabin, leaving the others in the common area.

One wall of his cabin slid aside to reveal a small wash area, and he turned on a water spout, filling a basin with water and splashing some of it onto his face. Another smaller spout squirted out some cleaning fluid, which he mixed with the water and pressed another button to warm the water up.

He quickly stripped off and got some clean clothes from a storage unit under the bed, laying them out on top of the scrunched up sheets and turned back to the basin.

"Should I be worried about you?"

Arkaan sighed and turned to see the armoured woman leaning against the wall next to the basin, her arms crossed across her chest. She straightened slightly and pulled off her helmet, throwing it across the room to land on his bed, revealing her flushed face and messy hair, compressed from being in the helmet. Smiling at him, she leaned back against the wall and raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for a reply.

"Why would you be worried?" he replied, turning back to the basin and using a piece of cloth to wash himself.

"Well, your ship talks like me, sounds like me and probably loves you like I do. And she's right, you do seem to be taking in a lot of strays recently."

"What's it to you? You're dead, remember?"

"Not to you."

"I've already asked you to leave me alone, Mesh'ika. You've been dead for three years, is it too much to ask you to stay that way?"

"You're starting to sound like a glitched audio, Noa."

"Then take the hint and leave me alone."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

She moved around behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. Despite knowing she wasn't real, he could still somehow feel the pressure of her arms around him, the cold metal of her gauntlets and breast-plates pressing against his bare skin and making him wince slightly. She laid a cheek against his back and he looked down at the basin, wishing the sensations would end.

"Because you need me," she whispered.

***

Hoday entered the cockpit at the same time as Jay was easing himself into the pilots seat, both hands planted on the arm-rests either side of the padded and contoured seat.

"What are you doing?"

Jay immediately jumped out of the seat, a guilty look on his face, whilst Hoday looked around for the source of the voice. He was still getting used to the disembodied voice of Senaar, and the ship's AI took every opportunity to make the Jedi jump.

"I just wanted to watch," said Jay quietly, sitting back down and directing his voice towards a console to his right.

"Don't touch anything."

"I wouldn't know what I'm doing anyway, so don't worry."

"I could do it," muttered Hoday.

"But you won't. I'll space the whole cockpit if you touch anything either, _jet'ika_."

"Jeteekah? What's that?"

"It means 'little Jedi', and I don't think she meant it in a friendly way," said a voice from behind them.

They both turned to see Arkaan leaning against the frame of the open doorway. Some of the hairs around his head were still damp, and the stubble on his chin had disappeared, to be replaced with a neatly trimmed moustache and short goatee, clinging to the bottom of his chin. He had on a light beige tunic with black combats and high brown bantha-leather boots that came up to his knee.

"Is that more of your Mando'a?" asked Hoday.

"Yep. It's probably something you're going to have to get used to, but considering you can understand Orikih, I don't think it'll be too much of a problem for you."

"Oh, a linguist, is he?" said Senaar sarcastically, and a torrent of insults erupted from the speakers, all spoken in a dozen different languages, and some of them very creative.

It continued until Arkaan reached over and slapped a button on the wall, cutting off the audio and he sighed.

"Just drop us out of hyperspace and get us moving again, Senaar. You can insult us all later."

"I'll hold you to that."

A set of Mandalorian numbers began to countdown in a corner of the cockpit viewport. After a single vertical line disappeared, the purple-blue tunnel outside elongated and exploded into a million lines, all streaking towards the outer edges of the viewport.

As they decelerated, the lines shortened and disappeared, to be replaced by a dull star-field, with yellow, red and white stars combining to create a sky unique to this part of the galaxy. Nothing but stars could be seen, since this course correction, like the millions of others scattered throughout galaxy, took place in deep space, well away from any planets, stars and asteroid fields, away from the dangerous and potentially lethal gravity wells that could end their journey through hyperspace in a spectacular and ultimately fatal conclusion.

Before any of them could try and see what stars they could recognise, their view was thrown to one side as Senaar made the course correction, settling the _Tracyn'senaar_ onto a new heading before starting another countdown.

Again, the last sigil disappeared, but this time the vessel accelerated into lightspeed. In a reversal of the earlier scene, the stars elongated before morphing into the mottled tunnel of hyperspace. Arkaan leaned forward and gripped the back of the pilots chair, making the leather squeak slightly beneath his fingers. The acceleration always made him slightly dizzy, and standing up didn't help at all.

"Course correction complete," said Senaar quietly. "You can leave me and my cockpit alone now."

"She's got a real attitude on her," said Hoday.

"I made her that way. Keeps things interesting."

"If you say so. Come on, kid, let's see if Orikih's got any more _tihaar_."

Hoday all but pulled Jay out of the pilots seat, pushing him in front and following him back from the cockpit towards the common area. Arkaan stepped forward and slid himself into the seat Jay had just vacated, swinging it around and putting his booted feet up on a console and leaning his head back.

"I was listening earlier, you know."

Arkaan looked up at the speaker beside him with weary resignation on his face.

"Good for you."

"What was her name? I heard you call her Mesh'ika."

"Meshurok Drayv. I called her Mesh'ika, or Mesh'la."

"How did she die?"

"Does it matter?"

"I know you based me on her, Noa. I know I was supposed to be a cheap replacement, something to ease the pain. You owe me this much."

"I owe you nothing, Senaar."

He sat in silence, mulling over his thoughts and memories. Closing his eyes to stop tears, he sighed softly to himself as he remembered, casting his mind back to that day three years, the day he never wanted to remember…the day he never wanted to forget.

"It was a bar-fight," he said quietly. "A stupid fight that escalated that we weren't even involved with. You remember Chinsky's? In Keldabe?"

"The place we go to every year where you get absolutely _batnor_ on _tihaar_ and _ne'tra gal_?"

"That's the place. It was in there. We'd just stopped by to have a drink before heading home, and some _aruetiise_ came in, rowdy _chakaare_ looking for a fight. A couple of the regulars went to throw them out, when someone pulled a blaster and started shooting. My Mesh'la took one in the throat and one in the stomach. Neither of us were wearing armour, and the medics couldn't save her. She suffocated."

"I'm sorry," whispered the speaker.

"Did you squeeze the trigger?" replied Arkaan angrily.

"No."

"Then don't apologise for something that wasn't your fault." He sighed. "Just…give me some space. Let me know when we're close to dropping out of lightspeed."

"Have you told the others we're not going to Mandalore yet?"

"No, but they'll find out soon enough."

"Who's the job with?"

"An old friend. Lex Uliik."


End file.
